


Merciless

by LucyRed



Series: Kindness is a Weakness, Curiosity is a Stumbling Block [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Agender Frisk, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Angst, Child Frisk, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Frisk Needs A Hug, Frisk abuse, Frisk torture, Like Really Evil, Non-Binary Frisk, POV Second Person, Psychological Torture, Torture, Underfell!AU, Underfell!Sans - Freeform, evil sans, it turns into something kind of like that anyway, just frisk dying repeatedly, mute!frisk (sorta), no ships, stockholm syndrome sort of, that's seriously all that this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyRed/pseuds/LucyRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans has Frisk trapped in an endless cycle of death and reloads. And they can't escape it. They are at the MERCY of a merciless torturer, who is bent on breaking down every last shred of DETERMINATION in their SOUL. Underfell!AU</p><p>(COMPLETE but there's a sequel in the work so calm your black little souls 8))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Me and You

**Author's Note:**

> There's not much if any plot in this story. It's purely for pain. I have a MIGHTY NEED so I know someone else has to, as well. So here I am. You're welcome.
> 
> Things to be aware of:  
> There will be NO romance period whatsoever in this. If you're looking for a ship fic there's hundreds of others. Same for sexual content.  
> This is a torture fic. I have to keep repeating that bc that's literally all this is. Physical and emotional torture as well as manipulation. It'll only get worse.  
> Frisk is depicted not as being _entirely_ mute, but with a serious speech impediment.  
>  They haven't befriended anyone in the Underfell!AU, just managed to get past them. Not a redemption run, in other words.  
> For the sake of extra pain and angst, SAVEs do _not_ fully restore health. The condition you are in when you SAVE is the condition you will be in when you RELOAD.  
>  I think that's it.  
> Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

You feel your feet touch solid ground again and you gasp, putting your hands over your chest and dropping Flowey in the process. There's no bones jutting out, no blood, no pain. Your body is whole, your HP is at 20, and you can even feel the warmth of a recently eaten cinnabun in your stomach. Once again, you've started back at your save.

“Frisk! What's wrong?!” Flowey cries from your feet, his pot luckily undamaged from his fall.

You're crying, which is probably why he's upset. He doesn't know. Doesn't know how many times you've died trying to pass through this hall. You don't really know either, though – after fifty you lost track. You had at least hoped that the pain would get less intense, that you might grow numb to it.

You haven't.

You feel yourself disintegrate, piece by piece, whenever you are hit with a Gaster Blaster. You can feel every strand of your heart being ripped apart as bones pierce your chest. After your first dozens failures, though, Sans had started to get bored. Bored with your quick, almost immediate deaths.

He's started experimenting.

Strangling you. Lifting you to the ceiling and then letting you drop, watching with a grin as you die slowly from internal bleeding. Slamming you again and again into the walls and floor, trying to see if he can shatter every last bone before you die.

Flowey doesn't know about the SAVEs. He grows increasingly concerned every time you wake back up in this hall, your DETERMINATION fading further and further. You are tired of dying again and again and again...

But seeing your only friend so scared and confused only makes the hurt worse. He's the one monster that cares about you. And you show your care by bringing him with you, letting him watch you die over and over...or worse...

You shut your eyes, picking up the flower again and holding him close as you remember Sans slowly ripping him to pieces right in front of you, grinning at the screaming as you beg him to stop, as Flowey begged him to just _end it already_...

Your shoulders shake and you duck your head, giving a sob. It was bad enough getting hurt yourself. But getting your only friend hurt too...

“aww..what's the matter, kid?”

As always, Flowey immediately panics, “Frisk! Run!”

Sans rolls his eyes at the repetitious flower, ignoring his cries,  “just give up, kid. i'm never gonna get tired of this.”

You give a strangled cry as Sans reaches out a hand and lifts you up, your SOUL growing cold and heavy. You shut your eyes and hold Flowey tighter when you realize you failed to put him down in time. Once again he's going to suffer along with you, and won't even been able to forgive you, because when you come back again he won't _remember_ -

A scream rips from your lips as you're _thrown_ back to the floor, several bones breaking at the force of the impact. You hear Flowey's pot shatter, hear him calling to you, but you can't understand him over the sound of your own cries of pain. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts-

“heh. That's gonna leave a mark, huh kid?” Sans grins, lifting you off the floor so your toes just barely graze the tile. You scream out as you watch him crush Flowey in his fist, your tears becoming even more blinding as the flower’s screams slowly fade away. “what's the matter? i'm just picking weeds.”

You're almost angry. _Almost_ . He knows what he's doing. He knows that it's hurting you, and _why_ ...he understands friendship. He knows it's possible so _why_ won't he let you help him? Why doesn't he give you a chance?

“tell you what, kiddo.” He conjures up several bones that surround you, covered in a fiery red glow and poised to kill, “let's just make this you and me. i'll give you a head start.” He winks at you, and then there's the sickening sensation of your flesh tearing as you're killed once more. You only have a brief moment to contemplate what Sans meant before you're back again, standing before the hall.

“Frisk! What's wrong?!”

You know what you have to do.

Clutching Flowey close, you turn and rush out of the room, running away towards the elevators. Flowey is yelling questions at you, scared and confused. But you can't answer him. You don't know how much time Sans is going to give you.

It feels as though it takes forever to run back, to find the first patch of soil outside the Core. You're openly sobbing by the time you fall to your knees in the red dirt across the bridge. Flowey all but screams at you as you take him from his pot and plant him.

“Frisk! What are you doing?! I can't follow you in there!”

“S-s-s..s-s-s _or-r-y-y_!” In between your handicap and your hysterical sobbing, you can barely get the one word out. You're giving up your last source of strength, of encouragement. By doing this, you're damning yourself to hell alone. To try and somehow get past Sans without a single friend by your side.

But you can't keep him with you. It would be selfish. The skeleton gave you a chance to let him out of it – you had to take it.

You throw your arms around the perplexed flower, hugging him as best you can.

He calls out after you as your rush away, tears blinding your vision no matter how much you brush them away with the sleeve of your sweater. You already miss him. The selfish part of you wants you to turn back, to bring him with you. But you are DETERMINED to keep your friend from any more suffering.

Your throat is dry and your breathing is heavy by the time you come back to the corridor. Your steps are weary as you walk up to the glowing bit of light and put your hands over it.

 **SAVE** _GO BACK_

“smart move, kid.”

You shudder at the voice, turning to face the skeleton as you hug yourself tightly, seeking some form of comfort that can now only come from you.

“i was wondering when you'd finally get tired of your 'buddy' screaming.” Sans chuckles, his red eye gleaming, “turns out you were just waiting for an opportunity, huh? you should’ve just **_said something_ ** , kiddo.”

He thinks that joke is funny enough to be told a hundred times over. You can’t speak more than one or two words at a time without a painful amount of effort, and that’s funny. Laughable. It hurts. He _knows_ it hurts. He likes it. Enjoys hurting you.

But still, you haven’t given up. Not yet.

In spite of everything, in spite of his laughter and menacing, demeaning grin, you step forward. Your arms are shaking as you hold them out.

Sans merely sighs, “you still wanna be friends, huh?” Without warning, a bone pierces you through from behind, and you fall forward, choking on blood, “sorry, kid. maybe next time”

 

It’s not next time. You are beginning to wonder if it’s ever.

You start to feel like you can taste blood on your tongue even after you die, after you’ve come back to the beginning. It takes a few deaths for you to realize why you’re always so exhausted, gasping for breath. It’s because that’s what state you were in when you last SAVED - tired, winded, eyes sore from crying and legs aching.

No more coming back fully awake. No more fresh start. You always come back out of breath. You always come back with your eyes heavy, your shoulders drooped, and your mouth hanging open to gasp in air.

But you’re never allowed to catch your breath before it’s stolen from you again.

You fall to your knees as you’re brought back again, for maybe the hundredth time, “S-s-sa..s-sa-a-an-n-ns!” You cry out, staring at him with pitiful, pleading eyes.

“what’s that, kid? you say something?” He grins back at you. His arm stretches out, and you immediately start screaming as you’re pulled forward, thrashing and trying to dig in your heels.

 _“P-p-pl-le-ea-eas-se!”_ You choke, shielding your face from the hideous, terrifying sight of the Gaster Blasters.

“that isn’t the magic word in this world, kid.” He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone.


	2. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk takes a nap. Sans plays as the alarm clock.

You’re so tired.

By this point it feels like you’ve been awake for days. You hope you haven’t really been fighting that long, if fighting is even the right word. All you ever do is cry. Even if you wanted to fight back, you couldn’t. All you have is a stick.

Your screams for mercy have died into pathetic whimpers for help from someone.  _ Anyone _ . Just make it stop.

“bet you’re starting to wish you could  stay dead, huh?”

You don’t dare nod your head, to give in to the feeling of hopelessness that’s slowly growing in your SOUL. But you don’t shake your head ‘no’ either. You just stand there, shaking, hiding your eyes so you don’t have to see whatever horrible attack is going to happen next.

“it’s alright, kid.”  His tone is  _ kind _ \- friendly. For a moment, that hopelessness shrivels away until you look up, staring at a line of glowing red bones aimed at your SOUL.  “i wish you could too.”

The hopelessness comes back twice as strong.

* * *

Running was something you considered before, but never really had to courage to do without the permission of a ‘head start’. But after so long, it’s the only thing you  _ can _ do. Your feet hit the ground and you take off, back up to the house, back to the core, to Snowdin, to Hotland, Waterfall,  _ anywhere _ . Anywhere but here.

Sometimes he catches you instantly, drags you back by your SOUL. Most often, however, he  _ lets _ you run. He always catches you, in the end. He’s faster: teleportation is a skill you don’t have. But you don’t expect to escape. You just want to  _ live _ . Just for a bit.

This time you hide. You go to Asriel’s old room and roll under the bed, scooting into the far corner and curling up. Your breathing is practically hyperventilating at this point, and you hold your hands over your mouth to stifle the sound.

You just want five minutes...five minutes is all. Five minutes without agonizing pain, or death, or taunts or…

How long can you hide, though? This isn’t the first time you’ve tried, but it’s the first time you’ve hidden  _ here _ , at least. You hope that will make some difference.

Footsteps. Slow, steady, casual.

“come out come out…”  Sans calls, chuckling. You repress a squeal of terror, your wide eyes fixed on the thin strip of light beneath the closed door.

“i know you’re in here somewhere, kid. it’s only a matter of time before i find you.” You hear him enter the kitchen. “so how about you just come out…” There’s the loud sound of glass shattering everywhere as Sans obliterates an entire stack of dishes, “ ** _b e f o r e  i  g e t  m a d_**?”

Your throat is thick with the desire to cry. You’re so scared of what he’s going to do when he finds you. Since he’s actually having to look some, you can only assume that you’re frustrating him.

“i’ll make it nice and quick for ya, kid. i promise.”

You want to believe him. But in spite of his efforts to keep his tone calm, you can hear the anger. It makes your SOUL shiver in fear.

In spite of it all, though...in spite of the terror that’s causing your heart to pound...your eyes begin to close. At first you fight the sleepiness, the exhaustion, but as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, you lose your resolve.

Does it matter? He’s going to find you anyway. And you’re so tired. So, so tired…

You give in and close your eyes. A moment later, you stop crying, stop shaking, stop feeling scared. You fall asleep.

* * *

You don’t wake at the tugging on your SOUL until a light blinds your eyes from behind their closed lids. You open them, and then turn frantic as you realize your SOUL has turned cold and heavy again, and you’re being dragged out from under the bed. Slowly. Painfully slowly. You know that Sans could have jerked you out in an instant.

He’s just reveling in the panic it’s causing you. Because he knows that  _ you _ know that you’re about to suffer. And you want to cry at the thought of more pain, even just with the few minutes you’ve been given without it. Like someone lost in a desert only being given a single drop of rain.

“hey kiddo.”  Sans greets you with a grin that very well conveys his anger at you.  “takin’ a nap, huh? bad idea when you’re playing hide and seek. kinda rude, too.”

You stare up at him fearfully, holding your hands over your SOUL and trying to scoot away. He lets you, to your surprise, and you quickly back up, your back hitting the wall as you draw your knees in to your chin. For a moment he just watches, taking some satisfaction in your terror.

"nothing to say to me, huh?" He laughs, rolling his eyes.

"S-s...s-so.." You shut your eyes and try to focus, try to get your awkward tongue to form the right syllables.

Sans tilts his head, watching you curiously. He clearly didn't expect you to  _ actually _ say something .  "don't hurt yourself."  He taunts.

In spite of the mocking, you keep trying. "S-so..s-sor-ry.." You finally choke out, through the terror and thickness of your throat. "So-rr-y." You repeat. "Sor-ry." It's a little easier now. "Sorry. Sorry. I..I- _ mm _ ...sorry.."

In spite of the earnest expression on your face, Sans is clearly unimpressed.  "it's gonna take a lot more than 'sorry' to make me happy."  His fist lights up again in a red fire, and you hug yourself tighter, as if that can protect your SOUL.  "should've just come when i called."  The conjured bone doesn't pierce your chest – it pins you to the wall through your shoulder.

You deafen yourself with your own screaming. " _ I-I-mm s-sor-ry! I-mm sorr-y! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! _ "

Those two words end up being more than perfectly practiced by the time you're finally allowed to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright here we go. Starting to get into the real pain now.  
> As previously stated, it only gets worse.
> 
>  **A/N:** Another thing I should've added - Frisk has only very vague memories of the 'uncorrupted' timeline. That would be a whole new pocket of angst of course but with the way things are headed I prefer Frisk to be mainly fearful of Sans, instead of reminiscent.


	3. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans reveals Flowey's true intentions to Frisk. Frisk tries to stand their ground and immediately falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer chapter this time. Enjoy 8)

This time when you come back, you collapse immediately, before you can even feel your feet touch the ground. You aren't crying, weirdly. Shaking, but not crying.

You're scared, because the feeling of your SOUL splitting in half, crumbling away…

...it felt like a relief.

Physically there isn't any real pain. There's only a few scratches on you, from previous trips and falls you took when running back from saving Flowey. Nothing like what was on you just moments ago. Just remembering the last you saw of your body...mangled, bleeding, bruised, ripped apart…

A sob escapes you. You don't want to remember. You want to be like the other monsters, clueless to the resets, unable to SAVE…

...unable to RELOAD. To come back.

“sheesh, kid. you look like a mess.”  Sans ends up walking toward you this time, seemingly a little annoyed that he has to do so. An extra little pang of fear makes you shrink away - you don't want him to be mad again. You'll have to remember to get up next time.   “and i haven't even done anything to you yet.”

_ Yet.  _ That word seems to echo endlessly in your head. Before you're remotely ready, your SOUL grows cold and you're forced to stand. Your knees buckle immediately, your mind remembering that your legs are  _ shattered _ and could never hold you up again until your body reminds you that you're whole now.

Sans gives an annoyed growl,  “get up, kid.”

At his tone you force yourself to comply, pushing yourself up and keeping your head bowed.

“don't you know how to greet a superior, kid?”

You shudder at the memory and curl up your fists, shoulders bunching up. You expect pain. Another death.

What you don't expect is to feel bony fingers on your chin, forcing your head up. You can’t help but whimper slightly.

“look me in the eye.”

You try to comply immediately, to keep him from getting angry, but it takes what seems like years before you can obey. Even before all the torture he has put you through, you've always found the skeleton’s gaze terrifying.

“..and shake my hand.”

Why is he doing this? What is he going to do? Shaking, you reach out a trembling hand and let him grasp it. His fingers close around your palm...gently. Assuringly.

It's the kindest physical gesture you've received in years. You immediately grip his hand tighter, clinging to it like the terrified, lonely child you know you are.

It seems that was what he was waiting for. Because his hold immediately turns rough and then you hear a sick series of  **_snaps_ ** .

And your hand is broken.

You scream, of course. It's all you can do. When have you ever been able to do anything else? If there was ever a time when your existence consisted of something besides this, you can't remember. Before you can crumble to the ground, Sans grabs you by the SOUL and forces you to stay standing. He keeps his grip on your mangled fingers, not loosening in the slightest.

Your crying fades out much earlier than either of you expected. The sobbing drops to quiet hiccups and whimpers, creating a strange quiet between the two of you. You try your best not to move - the slightest shift causes the pain in your hand to flare. So you just stand there with him, letting your palm rest in his cruel fingers.

“tired, kid?”  Sans whispers.

You nod, using your free arm to clumsily brush at your eyes.

Suddenly the grip gets agonizingly tight again, and you are dragged forward, falling onto your knees in front of a shining patch of light in the far corner.

“let's cut a deal.”

You hold the wrist of your now free but shattered hand, crinkling your nose at the tears running down your cheeks.

“SAVE, and i’ll let you rest.”

You stare at the little light, and you almost immediately grab for it. Just barely you force yourself to think it over. The one making the deal is Sans, after all. You know he wouldn't hesitate to turn this on you. The ‘rest’ might only be a minute. Or he could just be lying.

Your lip trembles as you imagine having to wake up in agony every time, and not being given even a moment to close your eyes.

Sniffing and cradling your injured arm against your chest, you muster up the courage to shake your head ‘no’.

There's an agonizing moment of silence. You shut your sore eyes tightly, just waiting for the anger. It will hurt. You know what he's capable of doing to you. You know that it will hurt.

“what was that, kid?”  His tone is low, dangerous - a warning.

Your shoulders are trembling badly as you shake your head again.

“think carefully, pal. you don’t want to make me  **_m a d_ ** again, do ya?”

You shake your head once more, sniffing and biting at your lip. He steps closer, and you can feel him looming over your shoulder. Your SOUL grows cold.

**_“s o  S A V E  t h e n.”_ **

You curl up tighter, hiding your face from him. No. No you won’t do it.

“what’s the  **matter** with you, huh?”

A feeble whimper is the only sound you make as you’re raised above the floor.

“don’t trust me?”  Sans flicks his fingers and you’re sent flying across the room, hitting the opposite wall forcefully.  “think i’ll go back on my word?”  You’re allowed to drop to the floor, but the hold on your SOUL remains,  “i’m hurt, kid.”

Sans throws his hand forward, pinning you back against the wall like he’s trying to crush you. It feels like your SOUL is trying to push out your spine.  “hurts that you don’t trust your only friend.”

That comment elicits pain for two reasons - one from him obviously mocking you with the idea that he’d  _ ever _ let you be friends with him, and the other from implying that you don’t have anyone else. “F-Fl..Flow-ey..” You choke out.

“that weed? you think he’s your buddy?”  Sans chuckles and starts walking towards you,  “news flash, kid - he was using you.”

You shake your head furiously, refusing to believe him. Just lies. More lies to tear you down, to chip away at your  DETERMINATION .

“just listen.”  His voice is calm, persuasive. He just wants to tell you the truth. Or he makes it sound like it, at least.  “you know monsters can’t get through the barrier without a human SOUL. that’s what you two were planning, right? make it past Asgore, get through the barrier back to the surface.”

Hesitantly you nod, still watching him with wide eyes and waiting for him to turn violent.

“how was he gonna get through, huh?”  Sans holds up his hands,  “he doesn’t even have his own SOUL.”

No, but...he said it was going to be alright. That it would all work out. That he...had..a plan..

“he was just waiting for you to fight Asgore for him. wait until you were both weak enough. then…”  Sans’s eyes close, and his grin stretches,  **_“h e  w a s  g o i n g  t o  k i l l  y o u  b o t h.”_ **

You give a choked cry of distress, trying to see some fault in his reasoning. No, no...Flowey is your friend. Flowey would never hurt you. He...just because he never told you how he was going to get through didn’t mean…

“face it, kid.”  Sans steps closer, until he’s mere inches from you. Your aching, weary muscles grow tense.  “all he wanted from you was  _ this _ .”  He sharply taps the glowing heart on your chest.  “he doesn’t care about you, pal. never did.”

Your lip trembles and you drop your head, chin falling to your chest. It can’t be true. He has to be lying to you. He  _ has _ to be...

“he was always so encouraging, huh? always pushing you to keep going. always got you back up on your feet, didn’t he? just had to get you to the barrier.”  Sans shrugs,  “guess now you know why he was so... DETERMINED to get you there.”

_ “Frisk! Stay  _ _ DETERMINED _ _! Don’t give up! You’re going to be alright!” _

All those things that Flowey would tell you...whenever you had fallen down and weren’t sure you could get back up...all that encouragement and support to bring you here...just so he could kill you?

You’re dropped from the wall and you crumble to your knees, putting your face in your hands and crying, not even caring about the pain anymore. You  _ trusted _ him you’d put every bit of faith into believing that he’d never hurt you that he was your  _ friend _ …He betrayed you.

Or...he was going to. Until Sans stopped him. Stopped  _ you _ . Both of you. Trapped you in this endless cycle of death.

“aww, don’t cry, kid. chin up.”  Sans grins at you,  “after all, you still got me. i haven’t gotten tired of you yet, have i?”

You slowly shake your head, hiccuping and trying to calm down your breathing. He’s still here. Sans is still here. You feel like that shouldn’t be as comforting as it is.

But when you look up again...he’s holding out his arms. To  _ you _ . He’s grinning that same grin that he had when he was ripping you to pieces, snapping your fingers one by one and laughing at your screams. But…

You clumsily get to your feet, choking on a cry and stumbling towards him. You bury your face into his jacket, feeling the hard ribs underneath. He’s barely holding you, but you don’t care. It’s such a relief, such a  _ joy _ to feel some sort of comfort -

Your eyes fly open wide, and you cough, spitting up blood onto his jacket. You look down, staring at the sharp bones jutting through your stomach, covered in red. You fall down onto one knee, and then the other, holding your gut and choking.

Sans is still grinning at you when you look up at him again.

“sorry, kid.”  He twitches a finger, and the bones dig in further, drawing out a strained, pained scream from you.  “but you shouldn’t have made me mad.”


	4. SAVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk tries cooperation.  
> That doesn't work out too well.

You come back feeling terrified, your SOUL shaking so badly that you immediately stumble forward, just barely standing on your feet. You’re staring at Sans with wide eyes, holding yourself tightly and gasping out tight, light breaths of air. Your legs are tensed and your heart is pounding, ready for you to run. Every last instinct is telling you to flee for your life.

Before you can so much as glance at the door, Sans has his arm raised and is forcibly holding you in place,  “don’t even think about it, kid.”  He warns, making a ‘come here’ gesture with his finger.

You’re too scared to so much as wiggle a toe, so Sans drags you forward himself. Your shoes dig into the tile, golden and clean despite how many times you’ve seen it coated red in your own blood. He has that same look in his eyes as last time, when you hid yourself.

If at all possible, your heart starts pounding faster and you begin to struggle. No no no no no no no not again please not again not that please you can’t do it that’s too much pain you can’t do it you have to get away-

“whoa whoa whoa. settle down there, pal.”  Sans eyes widen a little at how frantic your movements are against his pull, and he gives a brief, short chuckle as you fall to your seat and begin to claw at the floor, trying to drag yourself away.  “i said settle down.”

His voice is like a faint white noise in comparison to the pounding in your ears and the screaming in your head.

**_“i  s a i d  s t o p  i t.”_ **

You freeze up immediately, tensing every muscle and trying not to even flinch. Oh God you made it worse you somehow made it worse it’s going to be  _ even worse _ .

“good. glad to see you’re finally listening to me.”

It’s almost like he’s  _ all _ you can listen to. Either your heart is beating so fast that you can no longer hear a beat between pulses, or it’s stopped completely. His voice is echoing around in your skull.

“get up.”

Although you try to do so immediately, you can’t. Your legs are shaking so bad that you fall over more than once just trying to get them underneath you. You hear Sans give a huff of impatience and that practically forces you to stay up this time.

“look at me.”

You turn, teeth clattering together as you look at his glowing red eye. Your hands are folded together absently in a begging gesture, silently pleading for MERCY, if he has any.

You know he doesn’t.

“shouldn’t have made me mad, kid.”  Sans sighs, shaking his head at you.  “honestly, you would have gotten off a lot easier if you’d just taken the broken hand. now you’re gonna have a  _ really  _ bad time.”

You swallow, shutting your eyes and letting out a harsh breath. “S-s..s-sa-sav..sa-ve.”

“yeah, that’s what you  _ should’ve _ done.”

“ _ N-n-no-now _ .” You sputter, holding your hands against your SOUL, promising, “Th-th..th-thi-hi-s..th-is t-t..ti-me.” You almost can’t do it, but you hold out your hand. You can’t keep your arm from shaking, but you grab onto your elbow, stopping yourself from withdrawing. “P..p-pl-ple-ea-eas-e..”

Sans stares at you for a long time. Eventually his casual grin stretches a little wider.  “yah want me to crush your hand again, huh?”

You nod.

“alright, pal. bring it in.”  He holds out his own hand, forcing you to step closer, to put your fingers directly into the vice. His hand closes around yours and you flinch, expecting your bones to break right then and there. But he doesn’t hurt you. Not yet.

His thumb rubs gentle circles on the back of your palm, soothing away the tenseness in your muscles bit by bit. You slowly let out the breath you’ve been holding, swallowing and opening your eyes. Your shoulders fall a little, but your heart refuses to calm down. In a quick movement you squeeze his palm, hoping to trigger the violent motion like last time, just to get it over with. But he only gives a gentle squeeze back.

“scared, kid?”  Sans asks.

You nod again, tucking your arm against yourself and staying hunched over. “Wh-wh..wh-whe-en?”

“don’t worry about it, buddy.”  He dismisses lightly, as though what you’re waiting for is of no consequence.  “just relax.”

You can’t  _ quite _ do that yet. Your body refuses to let you. At first, anyway. Eventually you figure out that he isn’t going to hurt you while you’re waiting for it, so you force yourself to relax, starting with uncurling your toes and unlocking your knees.

“there you go, kiddo. that’s gotta feel better, huh?” 

Only a little bit. It was hurting, keeping yourself that tense, like a bunched up spring waiting to snap. You wipe your eye and nod.

“so you uh, probably guessed by now that you aren’t gonna get away with this.”

Another nod, more miserable. You never thought that. You just hoped that he’d lessen up on your punishment. Just a bit. Just the  _ slightest _ bit. You still feel like it will be worse than last time, but..

“but.”  Sans gives your hand another reassuring squeeze, continuing to hold it softly like it is at all precious to him,  “i’ll lighten up. just a bit. just for you, pal.”

You can’t help it. You smile, starting to cry again from relief. You hide your eyes from him in the sleeve of your sweater. But he can still hear your sniffs and coughs as you try to hold back from outright weeping.

“heh.”

You peek over your arm, looking at him. His fake, gentle gaze disappears and melts away into one of pure menace.

“ **_j u s t  m e s s i n g  w i t h  y o u,  k i d._ ** ”

Your hand snaps, and the screaming it draws from you doesn’t stop until your throat is too sore to make a single sound but a whimper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got about 2 or 3 more chapters worth of stuff already written - after that things are gonna slow down a bit. Just warning you.


	5. A Moment's Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans, surprisingly, keeps his promise.

You can’t seem to find any inch of yourself that isn’t bruised or cut. The slightest movement causes a painful ache. It’s as though Sans had made sure that he hasn’t missed a spot. He’s been oddly particular about how he hurts you, though - your left hand is broken, along with your right ankle and right arm, but those are the only broken bones. You aren’t in pieces, in other words.

It isn’t like it hasn’t been agony. Sans may not have shattered you but he has been getting a lot more precise with that knife of his. The cuts you are covered in are deep, but not so deep as to cause a fatal amount of bleeding. He’s clearly learned a decent amount of human anatomy from your last hundred deaths, and is applying it painfully efficiently.

Your back arches up in pain as you’re slammed back into the floor for the millionth time, but aside from a strangled gasp, you don’t make a sound. You’re too tired. Your throat is too sore, too swollen from crying and screaming. All you can do is just take it and remember that each blow brings you a little closer to the end.

You can hear panting besides your own, and it causes you to look up a bit, squinting at Sans and wincing at the ache this triggers in your swollen eye. His shoulders are a bit drooped, and you can see them rising and falling heavier than normal. He must be tired.

He notices your stare after a moment and quickly corrects his posture, slowing down his breathing as well.  “tired, kiddo?”

You nod slowly, glancing hopefully at the little glow of light in the far corner. Is he done? Can you finally rest?

The familiar tug at your SOUL makes you panic and think that maybe he isn’t, but he is only lifting you to your feet. You have to stand heavily on your left leg, and hold yourself just so so that you don’t upset any of your broken bones. You swallow and watch him, your half-lidded eyes pleading silently.

Sans nods and gestures you toward the SAVE point,  “knock yourself out, buddy.”

You give a silent sob of relief and slowly turn around, limping over towards the light. Your hands hover over it, and you can feel the world around you shift slightly. You hope, in spite of his betrayal, that Flowey has found somewhere safe, and that now he can stay there for awhile.

If not for how tired you are, you would have jumped at the sensation of a bony hand gripping your shoulder. Your eyes have already closed, and a second later you drop down to your knees. Sans catches you, laughing.

“you really are ready to just fall over, huh?”

Very gently you rub at your eyes, yawning and nodding sleepily. “..mhm..”

“alright. a promise is a promise. go ahead and get yourself a nap in, kiddo.”

Sans wanders over to the nearest wall and leans against it. You follow him, eyes just barely open enough to see his heels. He notices you and stiffens up just a bit.

“what do you think you’re doing, buddy? i wouldn’t fall asleep near me, if i were you. i’ll let ya go up and rest in that bed, even.”

You shake your head and lightly tug at his jacket. He stares at you incredulously, shaking with silent laughter.

“you really think i’m gonna give you my coat?”

When you shake your head again, you can see the confusion in his expression. You tug at it again, a bit more persistently, and point to the floor. With your left hand broken and your right wrist fractured, you can’t sign, and with your throat so thick, it’s impossible to use words in any way (even moreso than usual). But he seems to understand.

He tries to look casual about it as he sits down on the ground, but you can sense him stiffen as you crawl into his lap and bury yourself into his arms, yawning again and immediately going slack in the grip that has killed you gruesomely so many times before.

You can sense him staring at you as you drift off. But you’re too tired to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I advise that you do not for one second let your guard down.


	6. 1 HP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are other options besides MERCY, after all...

The return to consciousness is as unpleasant and unwelcome as ever. You bite your lip and shut your eyes tightly as the sharp cuts, aching bruises and shattered bones all come back in full force, making you tense in pain. If you hadn’t been as exhausted as you were, you wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep at all. Everything hurts.

The soreness of your throat keeps you from being able to groan in pain, but you expect that Sans has sensed you awakening anyway. Holding your breath (it hurts to breathe now anyway), you wait for him to push you away onto the floor, to somehow increase your agony even further until you die. A simple Gaster Blaster, maybe. A bone through your SOUL. Slamming you repeatedly against the ground until you slowly bleed out. That trick seems to be one of his favorites.

...but he does nothing.

Brow furrowing, you slowly open your eyes and very, very slowly turn your gaze upward. Your eyes widen and your mouth parts slightly as you realize that he’s asleep. That should have been obvious - he was panting from exhaustion, too, before he let you SAVE. And Sans was...well...Sans. Why wouldn’t he be passed out too?

In case it’s a trick, you hold still, chewing on your already bruised lip and watching his face anxiously. The skeleton’s eyes are closed (you aren’t sure how), and his breathing is steady and gentle. You can even hear him softly snoring.

You reach forward and push back the fold of his jacket, realizing that, somehow, either by your own doing or...his, maybe, you’re tucked away inside of his coat, and he has an arm loosely draped around you. You stare at this in awe for a moment, feeling your SOUL brimming with joy just at how gentle this whole scene is. He’s holding you, not by your SOUL or your throat or hair, and he’s not hurting you either. He trusted you enough to fall asleep with you right there in his lap.

You notice the smile on your face as you turn your head back towards his chest and continue to push the jacket aside. He’s wearing a shirt underneath, but the collar is low enough that you can see  _ his _ SOUL, if you sit yourself up tall enough. You can’t help but stare in fascination - it’s a deep, deep black color (all monster SOULs are, you’ve come to realize) but it’s also dimly shining with a very soft blue light. You wonder if it’s brighter when he’s awake.

In a very twisted sort of way, it’s beautiful. Seeing someone else’s SOUL...with other monsters, it was impossible. But Sans, being a skeleton...well, there isn’t much standing in the way besides his ribcage and his clothes. It’s no wonder that Papyrus was so thickly armored, and that he was particularly sensitive about his personal space. Skeletons must feel so vulnerable. All it would take was a powerful enough hit to their exposed SOUL, and they would die.

At the exact same time you realize this, you notice the glint of the knife inside Sans’s jacket pocket, and your eyes widen. Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel something like nausea and ecstasy run through you, turning your stomach with the sharp contrast in emotions. This is your way out. He’s asleep, he only has 1 HP, and his knife is right there. If you’re quick and direct, he’ll crumble to dust in almost an instant.

You’ll be free.

You can go back to Snowdin. You can sleep at the inn, and eat some fresh, warm food - you can get yourself healed up, reinvigorated. You’ll have a chance to speak with Flowey again, to ask him about his motives, to tell him you forgive him, if his betrayal is true...you can walk back through this hall without being killed, and ready yourself to face Asgore. You’ll be able to go back to the surface. You can get  _ out _ of here.

But as much relief as this idea brings, it also causes a crippling sickness that twists your gut into knots as well. You’ve never killed before...even in this horrible place, with every monster trying to steal your SOUL at every turn, you’ve kept from hurting anyone. You weren’t able to befriend them...that was too hard. They didn’t want to be your friend, and you knew you couldn’t make them. You just got them to lower their guard enough for you to be able to run away.

Sans, though...for some reason you had felt  DETERMINED to make him your friend. Maybe you thought he needed a friend more than anyone, or that he would be more willing, since he was one of the ‘weakest’ monster. But it was painfully,  _ painfully  _ obvious by now that he wasn’t weak, that he wasn’t going to be your friend, that he wasn’t going to show you any MERCY.

This was your only option. You  _ had _ to do this. You had to get out of here alive. There’s no point in trying to RESET. Even being more prepared, you aren’t sure if you could make it this far again. And with being so close to the finish line...so close to freedom...

Your hand is shaking badly as you reach forward, your small hand grasping the hilt of the weapon. Slowly you pull it out, pulling down Sans’s shirt collar with the other. 

You stare at his SOUL as you aim the blade. 

One hit. 

Just  _ one _ hit. 

You’re completely justified in doing this. 

You’re just trying to get home. 

You gave him plenty of chances to change his mind.

You don’t have time to debate with it any longer, as Sans stirs. He’s barely able to get out a sleepy, dazed  “wh-”  before you panic and plunge the knife into the black heart, giving a strangled, raspy scream as you do so. The skeleton lurches, bending forward with wide eye sockets and a hand over his chest.

You’re still holding the knife tightly, holding it out in front of you like a shield as he turns his gaze up to you. His grin slowly spreads back, the malice obvious in his eyes and his tone,  “...heh...i knew i couldn’t...trust you…”  A red liquid coats his palm as he pulls his hand back, and your mouth parts in shock. That can’t be  _ blood _ ...what is it?  “..how about those ‘morals’ of yours  _ now _ ...kid?”  He laughs, and it makes you wince at how strained his voice sounds. You can see the dust already beginning to fall away from him as he gets up, and immediately collapses to his knees.  “you’re just like the rest...you hate...me...you hate...monsters...the only..LOVE you have is...violence…”

You shake your head, barely aware of the motion. He gives another laugh.

“you know...that it’s true...just look at me…”

You’d thought he would die instantaneously. Not like this. Not slowly melting away in front of you, leaking some sort of watery red fluid that spills out over the floor in large puddles as he begins to crawl towards you. You back away, holding out the knife again. He grins.

“looks like you’ve finally...figured it out, kid…” Sans wheezes, arms shaking as he struggles to hold his decaying weight, “down here it’s...kill...or be killed…” He collapses, and you shield your face as his dust scatters.

You lower your arm, shaking as you stare at the grey pile. He’s gone. Dead. Out of your way. You can go home now. You’ve won. All you have to do is SAVE, to make sure he  _ never _ comes back, and then you can…

….you can…

...can…

Your lip trembles, and you begin crying, the sounds of sobs coming out only as breathless wheezes and squeaks of air from your throat. You fall forward onto your knees, bracing yourself up with your hands and ignoring the pain. Through your tears you look at all that remains of him, his jacket, and you grab onto it, pulling it closer and hugging it tightly.

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to do it you had to you  _ had to he made you there was no other choice you were so tired of dying- _

“N-n-n-no..” The word shakily falls out as you pull back your hands, now coated with the red liquid that Sans had bled. You recognize what it is, now. It resonates with your SOUL. Through your skin you can feel it. 

DETERMINATION .

That’s why you’ve always felt that pull towards him. That sense of sameness. A terrifying but familiar presence that felt natural. That in spite of how it made you tremble, you still wanted to save him - to make him your friend. Sans was a kindred spirit. Powerful, in his own way. Persistent. Unrelenting. He was everything that you could be, if you gave up on MERCY.

...and you just did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin.
> 
>  
> 
> Hhhha, no. Kidding.  
> Boy I bet you can see where this is going.  
> Oh yeah and this is the last of what I have already written. Updates will be...well, pft, I'm not even going to try and bother scheduling anything. I can't follow a plan for the life of me.  
> I've got a lot of enthusiasm for this story right now, but I just got my first _real_ job and idk how my freetime is going to be with that on top of school.  
>  Feel free to keep commenting though, my lovely dark-SOULed friends. I'll be watching ~


	7. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk apologizes. Sans forgives them. Or at least he says so.

 

In the end, it hadn't been that hard of a decision.

The knife was still in your hands, and the guilt helped drive it through your SOUL. When you opened your eyes again, you were in front of that glimmering light, exhausted again but showing no regret.

At first, you tense, expecting almost immediate murder. But you lift your head and look to the side when you realize that you've survived for more than five seconds. Sans is there, hands in his jacket pockets like before, staring at you, like nothing ever happened.

You can't help it. You smile, giving a choked cry of joy as you rush towards him, wrapping your arms tightly around the skeleton and burying your face in his chest. " _I-I-I'm-m...s-s-s-s-_ so-r-r-ry-y.. _.I-I'm-m...I'm s-s_ -s-so-r-ry.." You sob, your fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as your shoulders shake. He's alive he's alive he's alive again he's alive he's alive...you can feel his SOUL through his shirt, humming with life again.

At first, Sans does nothing. He simply stands there, tolerating the physical contact for a minute. You can sense that he's tense, and that he's probably angry and that he is most definitely going to kill you again, but you know that you deserve it.

When he finally does move, it's to lace his bony fingers through your hair. Your staggered, choked breathing slows and begins to gradually calm down as he strokes your head. You continue to whisper 'I'm sorry' against his chest, knees shaking as your exhausted legs fight to keep you standing.

"heh...you really are an **_i d i o t_ ** , kid." Sans chuckles, tightening his grip on your hair. You wince, but nod, giving a miserable sniff. "not for killing me - that's probably the smartest thing you've ever done. but bringing me back?" He shakes his head, pushing you back but keeping his fingers locked around your shoulders. You shiver in fear as you stare up into his fiery red, glowing eye. "you're gonna **_p a y_ ** for that, pal."

Again, you nod, hiccuping and bringing up a loose fist to clumsily rub at the tears that have escaped down your face. It hurts your swollen eyes to even touch them, but you don't care. For what you did, you deserve more than a little pain. What you did was...cruel. Treacherous. He had _trusted_ you, and you'd...you'd...

Your face scrunches up again as you feel another, fresh round of tears starting to prick at your eyes. You try to move forward, to embrace him again, but he pushes you back. You easily fall to your seat, already too tired to stand. Sans grins at you as you pull your knees in, struggling to stay sitting up without putting pressure on your broken appendages.

"you missed me that bad, huh? just had to bring me back in spite of common sense..." He shakes his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, "shame on you, though, for killing your only friend."

Giving a shaky sigh, you duck your head and hide your eyes from him. The guilt you feel in your chest is overwhelming. How _could you_? He's your friend...

..wait, no..he's...he's just saying that to hurt you. Sans doesn't really consider you a friend. You're just a game, to him, he's not...your friend...

..is he?

"so what should i do with you, kid?" Sans tisks, tilting his head and leaning back on his heels a moment, "you know i can't just let this slide. what sort of pal would i be if i let you get away with murder? nah, dirty _backstabbers_ like you deserve to suffer."

Shivering, you try to scoot back, wincing and abruptly stopping at the pain this sends shooting through you. The sharp agony is the only thing keeping your eyes open at the moment, besides the fear.

Sans steps closer and you bite down a whimper, instead hugging your stomach and drawing in your shoulders. "you know it, don't you, pal?" Sans leans down, and you can see his grin in spite of your efforts not to, "you deserve to be punished."

You give a tearful nod.

"and you're not gonna fight it, are you?" Sans removes one hand from his pocket, and you bite your lip to smother a panicked gasp as you feel your SOUL in his grip. "because you _want_ me to hurt you for what you did."

You close your eyes, feeling tears slip down your cheeks, the salt water stinging the open cuts, "...mhm..." You sniff, realizing that your eyelids are too heavy to reopen.

You can hear the grin in his voice. "good. that'll make things a lot easier for the both of us. get up."

A quiet, exhausted whine is your first response. But eventually you start shifting forward onto your knees, constantly pausing to give a silent cry of pain when you shift in a way that hurts your shattered bones. You are panting heavily by the time you're back on your feet, but your knees are heavily bent as you struggle to support your own weight.

Sans gestures with his head over to the nearest wall, "move it." When you glance up to give him a hesitant but questioning look, he doesn't hesitate to explain himself, "You're not the only one who's tired, kid. but i obviously can't trust you to be moving around when i'm asleep. so you're gonna let me pin you to the wall first."

At that, you give a strangled cry of fright, stumbling back a few steps. You know far, _far_ too well what it feels like to have a bone tear through your body, and you don't want to feel it again. But at the flare of anger you see in Sans's eye, you swallow down your fear as best you can and slowly limp over to the golden wall. He follows a few steps behind, his pace casual but his gaze boring holes into your back prematurely.

You're shaking badly as you slowly press your back into the tile, struggling to stay standing. He helps with that, though, lifting you up by your SOUL and holding you tightly against the surface. Your eyes widen as he conjures up two sharp, glowing red bones. You give a scream as they both suddenly plunge into both your shoulders, burying themselves in deep enough to keep you held up a few inches from the ground.

The pain of being pinned through is only amplified by the gravity pulling you down as well. You sob openly, but your cries come out raspy and weak. Sans seems to materialize in front of you, and you flinch as he puts a hand over your mouth.

"i don't need your screamin' giving me a skull-ache on top of everything else, kiddo. so **_c a n  i t_ **. wouldn't want to keep uncle Sans from getting some shut eye, would yah?"

Trembling, you shake your head, choking down a sob and mouthing out another 'I'm sorry' as he pulls his hand away.

“don’t worry. I forgive yah." Sans gives a wink as he turns and begins walking away from you, "see yah in a couple of hours, kid."

He takes a seat against the wall on the opposite side of the room, making himself comfortable before closing his eyes. You keep your teeth clamped down firmly on your lip to avoid making a sound, but tears continue to run freely down your cheeks, dripping onto the floor and mingling with the pool of blood forming beneath your feet. It almost doesn't matter how long you're going to be here, because it will still feel like an eternity.

Shutting your eyes, you struggle to keep your chin from trembling as you prepare yourself to endure these next several hours of silent agony.

It's going to be a long, _long_ time before you get to sleep again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well well well  
> wasn't that pleasant 8)
> 
> by the way, feel free to pitch me ideas in the comments below of something you might want to see. Try not to be vague ('i want to see Sans torture Frisk some more!') Well obviously. But in what _way,_ exactly?  
>  You get what I mean.
> 
> One last thing - I've been drawing out things for this story (see ch 1 for the new cover art) but I'm more than willing to listen to requests as to what scene in particular that YOU want to see. Obviously please keep your requests to THIS story. I shouldn't have to say that but I probably do regardless.  
> Anyway.  
> Until the next chapter, sinners~


	8. Patch-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans heals Frisk...

 

You don't even notice when Sans finally moves again. You've cried yourself out, and now have an achingly dry throat on top of your fatigue. You faded in and out of consciousness a few times, but the moment you started to go slack, the agony would jolt you wide awake. There's no real rest to be had for you.

You tried catching beads of sweat on your tongue as they slipped down your face, desperate for any relief from your thirst. Whenever you succeeded, the salt only made things worse. Your tired mind coupled with desperation, however, kept you trying regardless. Idly you wondered if you would die before Sans could wake up, but miserably decided that that would be too kind.

The sound of shuffling footsteps headed in your direction does nothing to stimulate your senses. You continue instead to stare bleakly down at the golden floor, watching as droplets of blood from your wounds gradually join the puddle of red on the tile. Each drip is a little less of your life bleeding out of you, and you find yourself watching in anticipation, hoping that maybe each one will be the last.

Suddenly the bones that are penetrating your shoulders vanish, and you give a strangled cry of fright that is barely audible through your swollen throat as you drop. Instead of hitting tile, however, you land against something soft. Your face finds itself buried inside a pile of fluffy white fur as arms wrap gently around you.

Immediately you slacken in the grip, breathing growing steady as you're carried away from the wall. It's Sans.  _ Finally... _

"you look  _ bone tired _ , kid." he chuckles. Your chest shudders in a weak attempt at a laugh at his joke. He must be in a good mood if he's making puns like that.

Chuckling at your positive response, Sans pats your back, sitting down on the floor against one of the pillars. You slowly pull your head back enough to stare blearily at him through your swollen eyes, though the blackened one can barely see at all. The skeleton casually lights up one of his hands in red flames and you stiffen, taking in a shaky breath to try and ready yourself, although the thought of even more pain being added to your already crippling load makes you want to cry again.

“relax, kiddo.” Sans says soothingly, adjusting your position on his lap so you're sitting upright,  “just gonna fix you up a bit.”

You blink in surprise, your eye widening just slightly. “F-f-f…?” You quickly give up trying to repeat the word.

“yep. it’d kinda be a waste if yah died too quickly after i just got my nap in.” He grins at you,  “i sure feel rested, though. slept like a baby. how about you, pal? those last hours were pretty fun, huh?”

Shuddering at the silent threat in his gaze, you wrap your arms around yourself and look away, nodding miserably. “Mhm..”

His grin stretches, “ knew you would think so .” He extinguishes the flames and examines your many wounds for a moment before bracing a palm against your collarbone, “ let's start with those shoulders, huh? ”

You give a strangled cry as he recreates the flames, trying to scoot away when you feel the heat on your skin. Sans gives an annoyed growl and grabs your broken arm, seeming to relish in the screaming that results, “ c’mon, kid, i need yah to cooperate with me here. gotta get this done before yah bleed out on me .” He grins, scarlet eye gleaming as he watches you slowly shift in closer, shutting your eyes and letting him press the fire into your wound.

He helps keep you still by grabbing onto your SOUL as he heals you, and honestly it’s the only thing keeping you from instinctively shoving yourself away. It burns  _ painfully _ hot, and you can feel your wounds closing and the fractured bones piecing back together. It’s not a pleasant sensation. You cry through most of it, although your tears ran dry a long time ago.

By the time he finally stops, your shoulders, leg, hand, and arm are all healed. You’re the closest to feeling whole that you’ve been in a long time. When he takes the healing hand away, and you can feel the changes in your sore but fixed body, the dry tears change to ones of relief. You bury your face in his chest, sobbing out ‘thank you’s and more apologies.

Sans chuckles quietly and pets your head soothingly,  “don’t mention it, kid. healing isn’t all that big a deal, anyway. i coulda done it anytime.”

You don’t have to ask why he hasn’t before. You already know. You nod, gradually bringing your breathing under control as you pull back. As you swallow, you give a wince at the painful dryness in your throat. Looking up at Sans, you sign out ‘water please’, relieved that your most reliable method of communication is available to you again.

The skeleton rolls his eye up, “hm. yeah, i could get you a drink, kid.”  Sans folds his arms behind his head and leans back lazily,  “but i dunno. why should i?”

Knowing that he has no real reason to makes your chin tremble. You lower your head and clasp your hands together, “P..p-pl..pl-ea-s.. _ plea-se.. _ ”

“...heh.”  With a grin, Sans stands up and picks you up along with him,  “alright, kiddo. let’s go.”

You shut your eyes to avoid being disoriented by everything shifting around as Sans teleports, and you soon find yourself being set down on bright red dirt. Blinking, you look around and immediately notice the water cooler. Gasping quietly, you get up and move towards it, pouring yourself several cups before you’re satisfied. The water is hot and burns your throat as it goes down, but you are too thirsty to care.

Eventually you wipe your sleeve across your mouth and turn back to face Sans, smiling and signing ‘thank you’.

Sans shrugs, smiling back,  “you feelin’ a lot better, kiddo?”  He asks in a gentle voice. 

You nod. 

“good.” As Sans steps closer towards you, you push down the urge to take a wary step back. “cause you gotta be in good shape for our next game.” He gives a wink, and you shiver as his kind smile begins distorting into a twisted grin. He pulls out his knife, and you try to run, but he grabs hold of you. You stare up into his pitch black eye sockets, eyes wide in fright. **_“a n d  i ‘ m  g o n n a  h a v e  a  g o o d  t i m e.”_**

The blade plunges into your eye, and you barely have time to scream before you black out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...before stabbing out their eyes.  
>  I laugh at anyone who let their guard down for even a moment. Enjoy your punishment of pain, silly optimists.  
> lucyred.deviantart.com


	9. Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That small voice of reason is growing quieter and quieter.

    The first and only thing you see is blackness.

    Your face is wet, and when you reach up to touch it, a slick, slightly sticky material covers your fingers. Sniffing, you try reach whatever is covering your eyes. Your hand grazes a soft, damp material tied tightly around your head. The texture is familiar…

    Arms shaking, you push yourself to your seat and run your hands down your shirt, quickly confirming what you had already suspected. There’s a large strip of your sweater that’s been ripped off from the hem. And it’s currently covering your...eyes…?

    You choke in a gasp and put your palms over them. Your eyes...your eyes your _eyes your_ _eyes-_

    “i wouldn’t do that if I were you, kid.” Sans’s voice comes suddenly from your left and you jump to the side, screaming as you feel your feet leave solid ground. A bony hand grabs the front of your shirt and jerks you forward before you can fall into the pit of lava behind you. “whoa, take it easy. killin’ yourself is against the rules.”

    “S-Sa..S-San..wh-why..?!” You choke out, falling forward so your hands hit the hard-packed dirt. At least when you’re on the ground, you can’t just stumble off a cliff into magma.

    “‘cause if yah RELOAD too fast then we don’t get to play at all, pal. and that’d be a bummer.”

    “N-no! Wh…” Frustrated, you sit up on your knees and use your hands, ‘Why did you blind me?!’

    “cause kids always cheat. and i’m a sore enough loser when i lose fairly.”

    ‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about!’

    “shh shh…” Sans says smoothly, picking you up under the arms and sitting you down on a rock, “listen...we’re friends, right?”

    “Y-” No. Wait. He’d just _blinded_ _you_ he’d taken that knife and he’d..he’d-!

    His bony hand wraps around yours, and you’re quick to move your other hand to grasp it as well, desperate for a gesture of comfort in your state of panic, “Y-y-yes.”

    “right. and best pals like us play games, right? i haven’t had a chance to play with a friend in a while.”

    Your shoulders draw in, feeling guilty at the loneliness in his tone of voice. You duck your head, curling your toes in. Of course.

    ‘But..’ You reluctantly pull your hands away, ‘..why did you have to hurt me?’

    “heh.” You can hear the grin in Sans’s voice. **_“c a u s e  i t ‘ s  f u n, k i d.”_**

    Your heart stops for a moment at his tone, and you lean away, only to have the collar of your shirt grabbed, jerking your head back forward. You give a startled gasp, not at all liking the new level of terror added by being unable to see anything happening around you.

    “besides,” Sans continues, “you deserve it, Frisk.”

    This is the first time he’s used your name. Your brow lifts and your lips part a little in shock. He must be really serious, then, if he isn’t using a nickname. And you...you suppose that..you do deserve it, after what you did.

    But he’s killed you dozens if not hundreds of times, how is..do you really deserve this much pain for only killing him once-

    “what kind of horrible, _back-stabbing_ , _dirty liar_ kills their best friend, huh? after telling me over and over that all you wanted was to get along-”

    “N-no!” You blurt, not wanting to hear anymore, ‘You’re right. You’re right, I know I deserve it. I’m sorry.’

    There’s silence for a while, and when Sans does speak again, his tone of voice makes you cower in place.

    “that’s really sweet, kid, but uh…” His hand moves up from the collar of shirt to around your neck, easily shutting off your air supply with the pressure of his grip, **_“d o n ‘ t  i n t e r r u p t  m e,  g o t  i t?”_**

    Giving a small whimper of terror, you nod, hands wrapping around the wrist that’s choking you. Not to pull it away, but to grip it in as a sincere of a repentant gesture as possible. You didn’t mean it. You just couldn’t stand being reminded about how horrible you are, and...how...much of a...liar…

    You cough and try to gasp in air, giving another whimper as you feel your head growing light and your chest convulsing. At what seems like the very last second, he drops you. You collapse to the ground, coughing and taking in large gulps of air. Keeping your head bowed, you slowly shift to your knees. ‘I’m sorry’. Your hands drop back to your lap immediately.

    “heh.” Sans ruffles your hair, and you let out a sigh of relief at the gentle, playful touch. “it’s alright, kiddo. i forgive yah.”

    Hesitantly, you tilt your head up, although it’s pointless to do so, ‘What’s the game?’

    “oh you’re gonna love it, pal. i thought it up just for you.”

    You give a hesitant smile, ‘What’s it called?’

    “Let’s call it **_R e p e n t a n c e_.”**

    Your smile fades immediately, and you cower lower to the ground.

    You don’t like that name at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, I wonder what the rules are.
> 
> (Sorry for the slight delay in chapters. I've gotten very excited and busy with a new project - a Choose Your Own Adventure survival story centered around the Underfell universe. The reader 'plays' as a character trying to survive as a disguised human in a vicious, kill-or-be-killed world. If you're interested, you can go to my deviantart account LucyRed12 and have a look into the CYOA folders in my gallery. Or if you need a bit more direction, just message me. I swear I'm friendly.)


	10. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans lays out the rules and the objective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I want to apologize in advance for the...shall we say less than spectacular quality of this chapter. I was supposed to have this finished and uploaded yesterday, but school combined with my job meant a total of 10 hours of working. To say I was winded would be an understatement.  
> To make up for this I plan to have the next chapter uploaded sometime later today.  
> Anyways...read on.

‘ _ I thought he was my friend-’ _

_ ‘He is my friend! He's my only friend!’ _

_ ‘Then why did he hurt me? Why is he putting me through this?’ _

_ ‘I deserve it after what I did to him-’ _

_ ‘But I was just trying to protect myself-!’ _

_ ‘-real friend wouldn't hurt me-’ _

_ ‘-healed me up, he didn't have to-’ _

_ ‘-from the pain that  _ he _ caused-’ _

_ ‘He's my friend-’ _

_ ‘He's not my friend-’ _

_ ‘I need him-’ _

_ ‘-have to escape-’ _

_ ‘-can't leave him-’ _

“are you payin’ attention, kiddo?”

You nod, signing out an apology and lifting your head up. Your mind is spinning in confusion, overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts and emotions. But you need to be listening to the rules of the game he has planned for you, if you want to survive it.

“good. why don't you look me in the eye, then? ...oh wait. i’m forgetting something, aren't i?” You can hear the grin in his voice,  “ **_you can't, can you_ ** ?”

Your bottom lip trembles as he laughs. But you can't even cry anymore. You just take in shaky breaths and curl up your fists.

“awh, chin up, pal. if it makes yah feel any better, i can't look you in the eye either anymore.”

A sob catches in your throat and you swallow it down quickly. You don't want him to see what his ‘jokes’ are doing to you.

“what, not even a giggle? c’mon, kid, that was  _ hilarious _ .”

Even your best efforts can only force a very feeble half-smile onto your face for a moment before it crumbles and you duck your head again.

With a sigh, Sans moves on.  “alright. rules are pretty simple. first off, you can’t die. if you kill yourself or get yourself killed and we both end up back in that hallway…” He pauses,  “...you are  **_never_ ** getting your sight back. i’ll take it from you  _ permanently _ . got it?”

Trembling, you nod, drawing your knees in and tightly clutching the stick in your hands - he had gone back and fetched it for you, to prove that he wasn’t  _ completely _ unfair. At least he recognized that you’d be needing it if he didn’t want you falling off the platform into the lava every five seconds.

“good. second rule -  _ no running off to try and get ‘help’ _ . don’t talk to  _ anybody _ .”

You nod again, curling your fists in your lap. No one else can understand you, anyways - Sans and Papyrus are the only monsters that can ‘speak in hands’. And trying to use your voice is out of the question, too. It takes you  forever to stammer out a single sentence, let alone an entire plea for help.

“let’s see, what else am i missing?” Sans gives a tisk as he thinks,  “oh right - objective. it’s pretty simple. just find your way back to the Hall.”

Your brow lifts and your hands move frantically as you begin to try and argue the impossibility of being able to do that. You don’t even know where you are  _ now _ \- you’d been by the cooler before, but Sans has since moved you, and you don’t know where.

“shush, kid. my game, my rules. and, well...you don’t really gotta choice, do ya?”

Hopelessly you drop your hands again, drawing in your shoulders. This isn’t even a game, it’s just a challenge that you have no hope of completing.

“and that’s it. see ya around, kid.” Sans takes a step back, and then moves forward again,  “oh right. i was gonna give ya this.”

He takes your wrist and flips your palm upwards, curling your fingers around his knife. You recognize the feel of it immediately. But you don’t want to hurt anyone-

“you’ll need it, trust me. wouldn’t wanna get killed by some wandering monster, right?”

_ ‘...but..’ _

“good luck, pal.”

You feel the slightest puff of wind, and you know that he’s gone. And you’re left all alone in the middle of nowhere, vulnerable to any and every possible peril. Every noise makes you jump, fearing a monster that could easily rip you to pieces, killing you and forcing you to RELOAD back in the Hall. If that happens then Sans will...your eyes..

Giving a whimper, you clutch your stick tighter to your chest, taking in a deep breath and trying to calm yourself. It’s impossible to beat this game. But it was also impossible to make it to where you are now. You’ve done impossible things before, and you’ll do it again.

Your chin tilts up and you roll your shoulders back, furrowing your brow.

The air is hot, and filled with the smell of burning metal.

You are filled with... 

...DETERMINATION.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisk isn't broken just yet, it seems.


	11. Your Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this world...

You get to your feet, gripping the stick tightly in your right hand. In the left is the knife that Sans left you. Your arm trembles a bit as you consider abandoning it. But it isn’t  _ your _ knife to abandon, and...there are still monsters down here, all of which would happily kill you. Reluctantly you tuck it into one of the belt loops of your pants and pull the hem of your sweater down over it.

_ ‘Only for emergencies.’ _ You tell yourself, biting your lip and taking a cautious, first step forward. In front of you is a drop, and not far to your left is another. As well as your right. When you begin to walk in the seemingly only safe direction, you find yourself stepping into a steep, wet puddle.

Giving a gasp of confusion you scramble back, shaking out your now-soaked bare feet and furrowing your brow. The cooling sensation is a relief, but you’re very confused. You don’t remember there being any sorts of bodies of water in Hotland.

Reluctantly you move forward again, tapping the end of the stick to the side of the puddle until you can hear it knocking against solid ground. Deciding it’s just a weird spill, you advance again. There’s no water this time, but the moment your foot transfers from dirt to solid ground, there’s a loud buzzer. You jump back, startled.

You stand there for a moment, bewildered, as you try and reason out where you could possibly be. You know that you’ve heard that noise before, and that it means something bad, but...you can’t remember. All your memories are blurred behind the days and days worth of time spent fighting Sans.

In spite of the loud sound it made, nothing happened to you when you stepped forward, and so you reluctantly do so again. You wince at the noise but quickly move on. For a moment, the smell of burning metal fades away and is replaced by something...citrus like-

You give a startled shriek as you suddenly slip, feet falling out from under you as you slide forward into another puddle. Another spill? No, there’s...there’s something stranger going on. Leaning forward, you feel around in front of you, until your hand reaches the end of the water, and you notice that there’s a slightly raised wall surrounding it. It’s in some sort of...shallow pool. Shifting onto your knees, you follow the edge’s pattern, and realize that you’re sitting in a perfect square.

This is familiar. Your shoulders tense up as you begin dragging up the memory - Mettaton, a sneering Alphys, a mocking crowd, a timer ticking down to your demise as flames licked at your heels…

...this is the Puzzle.

You allow yourself a moment of panic. You don’t remember the rules, but even if you did, what good would it do you? You can’t see the tile colors. Getting through this was hard enough when you had your sight, but trying to solve it  _ blind _ ? It’s imposs-...

Gritting your teeth, you shift your jaw and stand up. No. You won’t think of that word. It’s going to be hard, but you can do it. Trial and error will have to be your strategy.

You take in a deep breath and square your shoulders, tapping your stick persistently against the edges of the pool. Ahead of you smells like...oranges. To your left and right, there are harmless platforms. You put your hand on them, and they don’t buzz. You pick your right and step up onto the tile. The water soaked into your clothes evaporates almost immediately in the heat.

Another move forward, however, gives you an unpleasant shock. Literally. A jolt of electricity is sent through your body, causing you to cry out in pain. Right.  _ Those _ tiles. You forgot how painful they were.

A weary sigh threatens to escape, but you crush it down. Trial and error...you can do this.

 

In the end, you’re crawling through the puzzle. Your stick can’t reliably tell you much about your terrain, and so you have to feel ahead of you. Is it slippery? Wet? Loud? Electric?

You get shocked more than once, and you get your hand bitten by piranhas at least three times. By the time your palm touches the dirt covered ground, you’re exhausted. A cry of relief escapes you when you finally stand up and find yourself free of that horror.

That took hours..several, painful hours. You just want to go to sleep. You realize wearily that you haven’t had any rest since the last reload. Adrenaline was keeping you fueled for a while, but now you feel practically dead.

Would Sans get mad if you found somewhere to rest…? He never said you couldn’t…but you don’t have enough money for the Hotel, and you can’t just fall asleep anywhere. Clearly the only safe place for you to sleep will be back at the Hall with Sans.

Biting down on your lip, you begin slowly trudging forward. It’s going to be a long, lonely walk…

…

… “...Frisk!”

Jumping, you wheel around, searching for the source of that familiar voice.

“Frisk! Over here!”

Eventually you pinpoint the noise, and you drop to your knees, finding yourself resting in front of a yellow-petaled plant, “F-Flowe-y!” You gasp, struggling to attempt a hug.

“Frisk! I’m so glad I found you! What...what happened to your eyes..? Why are you blindfolded?”

You lean back, tilting your head down. Flowey doesn’t know sign language, although he’s learned some from your time spent together. Still, it isn’t enough to tell him what’s happened to you since he left. All you can manage with him is ‘yes’ and ‘no’.

“Did...did Sans do that to you…?”

You give a short, concise nod. Flowey gives a quiet gasp of horror. You wish you could explain to him that you deserve it.

“Oh no...oh no, Frisk, I’m so sorry, I should have been there for you...! I could have helped!” 

You feel a leaf on the back of your hand, and you gently rest your other palm over it, shaking your head. There was nothing he could have done.

“...heh. That’s silly, isn’t it? I wasn’t much help…”

You try to give him a reassuring smile, to silently tell him that he helped you so much along your journey.

“I just kept dying, making you feel guilty...it was probably for the best that you took me out of it.”

You pause, lifting your head up and furrowing your brow. How does he know about…?

“...I...I should start being honest with you, Frisk. You’re my best friend, after all! Best friends shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.” You hear the flower give a sigh, “I’ve...always known about the RESETs, Frisk.”

Your lips part slightly in shock, and you lean back. He remembered? He remembered every time he died…?

“I pretended that I didn’t, so that you wouldn’t feel bad for me! You had enough trouble trying to take care of yourself. But...I guess you aren’t as good at that as I thought you could be…”

You shift in your seat, pulling your knees up to your chin and putting your forehead down. No, you really can’t take care of yourself. You’ve tried so many times…

“You’ve been RESETing so much, Frisk. I tried to find a way to get to you, but every time I came close, I ended up appearing back where I started, outside the CORE. There wasn’t anything I could do.” The pain in your friend’s voice is obvious. You reach out to try and reassure him, stroking his petals with your fingers. “I knew I had to wait until you came back out here before I could do anything, and I didn’t know if that would ever happen, but…! You’re here! We’re together again.”

Smiling, you nod, taking in a deep breath straightening out your legs. Now that he’s here to help you, getting through the Hall and back to the surface will be much easier.

“...I’m just sorry that you couldn’t beat Sans on your own.” Flowey mumbles.

You consider telling him that you did, once, but then you would have to explain why you brought him back, and...you don’t know if he would understand. So you look away instead.

“...and...if you can’t get past him, then...how would you get past Asgore? It’s...it’s hopeless, Frisk. You can’t do it.”

Shocked, you look back at the flower. You’ve only ever heard encouragement from him before, but now...now he’s telling you to give up?

“F-Flo..Flow-ey..” You start, expression contorting in pain.

“It’s not your fault, Frisk!” Flowey rushes to reassure you, “You’re just not strong enough, but...but if we were  _ together _ ...our combined power, Frisk, would be enough to defeat Sans  _ and _ Asgore!” His voice lifts a bit, and you tilt your head, frowning, “I know you think I’m still weak, but...I took a monster’s SOUL, Frisk! For you!”

You lean back in horror, mouth agape - Flowey  _ killed _ someone?

“Don’t...don’t look at me like that! I  _ had to do it _ ! You weren’t doing  _ anything _ ! You were just dying over and over!” He shouts, and you can hear the tears in his voice, “It’s just one monster, Frisk. And now I have a SOUL! Aren’t you happy for me?”

‘Just one monster’...? Just one  _ life _ , corrupt as it may be, doesn’t deserve to be stolen away. You shake your head at him, looking away and scrunching up your nose as the threat of more tearless crying begins to build up.

Flowey is quiet for a few minutes. You can tell you’ve upset him, but you can’t just tell him it’s okay. You can’t assure him that his actions were just.

“...I understand, Frisk.” He says softly, “You still don’t understand how this world works...it must be a lot nicer on the surface, huh?”

Wiping your nose on the sleeve of your sweater, you stand up on shaking legs to fight the urge to fall asleep, “Mhm..”

“...I want to see what it’s like up there, Frisk.” Flowey says eagerly. 

You hear an unfamiliar sound...like a sort of shuffling. It concerns you, and you take a step back. Immediately a vine snaps around your wrist, causing you to drop your stick and stumble back forward.

“Even though I have a SOUL, now, it isn’t powerful enough on it’s own...it takes a human SOUL, too…”

You start digging in your heels, giving a frightened gasp as you realize your ‘friend’s’ intentions. You try to pull off the vine, but it only clings tighter.

“I have to get out of here, Frisk. I can’t...I can’t  _ take it _ anymore! I want to see the sun. I want to see the stars. I don’t want to have to fear for my life all the time!”

“N-n-no!” You cry out, falling to your knees as more vines wrap around your legs and pull you down, “N-no! No-o!”

“Please, Frisk, just...just let me have this! We’ll exist  _ together _ , just inside one body! You’ll get used to it-”

_ “No!” _ You scream, your voice cutting out as your neck is tightly noosed, your windpipe slowly being crushed. You start to gasp for air.

“It’s okay, Frisk…” Flowey reassures you in a timid voice, “...I’ll make it quick. I promise.”

Your head begins to grow light. You can feel yourself beginning to fade away. You can’t  _ die _ \- you can’t die you  _ can’t _ . You  **_refuse_ ** !

Almost acting entirely of its own will, your free hand grabs around the handle of Sans’s knife. Frantically you slash forward, feeling the blade slice through...something. You don’t know what. But it causes Flowey to cry out in shock and pain.

“Frisk! Wh...n-no! No, put that away!”

You sense another vine trying to grab it away from you, but you jerk your arm away, bringing down the weapon on the restraint holding your other wrist. You follow the sound of his voice, crawling forward and kicking out at the limbs that try to wrap around your legs. You won’t die. You  _ won’t  _ **_die you w o n ‘ t_ ** -

Your arm swings forward again, and this time, you know exactly what you’ve hit. The abruptly silenced scream tells you enough. You hold still, trembling as you feel the vines crumble into dust around you.

You don’t even cry. What’s the point?

He’ll be back, when you reload again.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...can friendship even exist?
> 
> (gave ya'll a longer chapter this time - you lovely, patient beauties more than deserve it)


	12. The Core

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk has another confrontation and a flashback of a life that might not even have been theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is...long. Compared to my other chapters, anyway, so..  
> ..buckle down, I guess.

Your legs are trembling by the time you’ve climbed up the dirt stairs to the Resort. In one hand you have your stick to guide you, but you haven’t let go of the knife. There’s a very fine layer of dust on you - the remains of your friend...or at least, who you  _ thought _ was your friend. The sense of betrayal you feel is weighing down your already weary SOUL.

Sans was right. Flowey had never cared about you. He had just been guiding you along to protect your SOUL so that  _ he  _ could steal it from you. All those lies about being your best friend, and only wanting to help…

You tighten your jaw and push your hand forward as you feel the glass doors approaching. You can hear shuffling around you as you move forward towards the CORE - monsters back away from you. As weak as you look, there’s something in your bruised, bloodied face...an expression that makes any potential attacker hesitate.

...you’re worried that it might be hatred.

But as you leave the building, and as your feet transfer from dirt to metal, you realize that you don’t hate anyone. You’re angry. Angry at Flowey for his betrayal, angry at Sans for forcing you to go through this game for his amusement, but mostly...you’re angry at yourself.

For trusting Flowey. For being too weak to stand up to Sans. For being so naive and innocent, and believing that by showing kindness, you could change people for the better. None of it is true.

The only ‘friend’ you made had just tried to kill you. Every monster that you had encountered only ever consistently attacked you, unmoved by your pleads for MERCY and friendship. And Sans...he’s been playing with you from the start. He knows how lonely you are, how DETERMINED you are to survive, and how blind you are to the cruelty of the underground.

You give a weak chuckle. Funny how that, now that you were literally blinded, you could see this world for what it really was. You could see monsters for what they really were - monsters. Maybe Sans is doing you a favor by putting you through all this torture. You’re finally beginning to understand.

The sound of distant machinery fades out more to be replaced by quiet beeps and clicks from the multiple computers that keep the CORE functioning. You move straight ahead, trying the elevator. It’s broken, of course. But there hadn’t been any harm in trying.

Sighing to yourself, you step back and try to recall the directions. It’s like trying to grab water - hopeless and muddled. But you know that the CORE can rearrange itself, anyway. Even if you did remember the way you’d used before, there was no guarantee that it would be the same.

You wish you could read the signs that were posted along the halls. Those had been surprisingly helpful hints to the maze. But of course, you couldn’t do that now. Just like before, you just had to keep stumbling forward and hope you fall in the right direction.

Without much deliberation, you head left. There’s the sound of a door parting in front of you to allow you passage into the next hall. You try to keep your ears open, listening for the approach of any threat. Last time you went through here, there were swarms of monsters seeking you out. They had been directly sent there as mercenaries. It was doubtful that they would still be here, but for you, there’s no such thing as ‘too cautious’.

Your life isn’t exactly on the line. But your sight is. And you’ve lost too much already to lose that too.

 

Another dead end leading into a pit of fire. Giving a frustrated sigh, you turn around and head back into the hallway, keeping your hand on the right wall as you walk along slowly. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up.

More than once you had stumbled onto your knees, your legs just abruptly giving up and collapsing under you. You’ve risked taking a couple of rests, but you know you can’t stay still for too long. You’ll risk falling asleep and marking yourself as free EXP for whatever monster happens to come across you first.

You lean heavily against the wall, pausing for a moment to rub at your face and try to wake yourself up. The warm environment and the white noise of the computers does nothing to help you fight off the sleepiness. But you can’t give up.

_ ‘The exit might be around the next corner.’ _ You’ve been telling yourself that for the past hour, but it still gives you hope. Sighing, you start moving again, swallowing and taking in a deep breath. Another door parts before you, and you head in.

After a few steps, it closes abruptly behind you, and you’re suddenly bathed in utter silence.

The sounds of beeps, clicks, and whirrs has faded out completely. All you can hear is the low, vague hum of the CORE below your feet. You pause, out of habit turning your head as if you could look around. A chill goes up your spine, and you hold your weapons closer to your chest.

_ ‘Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe this is the room where I fought Mettaton _ ..?’ That would mean that you were just a few rooms away from the Hall. It wasn’t exactly a short walk, but at least it wouldn’t be a complete maze. After the last few trials you’ve been through, it will seem like a breeze.

Continuing in that hopeful line of thought, you keep moving forward. Your bare feet seem to somehow make a reverberating echo against the floor with each step. The grip on the knife increases until your knuckles are white. Your breathing has grown shaky.

**_“Alakazam!!”_ **

Something slams into your side and sends you flying, smacking your shoulder hard into a wall at your left. You cry out in pain and alarm, quickly standing up and trying to locate your attacker. As blurred as your memory is, you know exactly who you’re up against.

It shouldn’t be too difficult. Madjick is violent and chaotic with his strikes, but he’s also completely insane - you tricked him last time you fought, but you don’t remember how.

_ ‘Stay DETERMINED.’ _ You tell yourself, getting back to your feet and brandishing your weapon. You’ve come too far to be beaten by-

“You’ve pushed your luck.” A voice whispers from your side. You jump away, but not in time to avoid a wide ring being hurling into your stomach. Gasping, you fall forward, arm around your waist as you struggle to catch air. You don’t remember who this is. You don’t remember how to fight them.

“No regrets.”

Oh God...there’s  _ three _ . Three monsters that have you cornered and overpowered. You try to flee, but an orb strikes you in between your shoulderblades and brings you back down to the ground quickly. Just barely you manage to move your head in time to avoid the spearhead that nearly slices your throat, only clued in by the feeling of a light breeze near your face. Gasping, you scramble back up, holding out your stick and striking randomly in the direction of the slightest noise.

You deflect about three attacks, and the sudden adrenaline rush allows you to ignore the lead in your bones from hours of torment. You’re dancing blind, not knowing if each step is going to help you to avoid a hit or move you right into the line of fire. The monsters laugh at your antics, slowing down their assault only to toy with you for longer.

You’re  _ frantic _ . How can you possibly survive this?

“Your time has run out.” An airy but ominous voice announces.

“Stupid human...you can’t survive us. You’re  _ weak _ !”

_ “PLEASE AND THANK YOU!”  _ Madjick shrieks loud enough to make you wince.

Your jaw starts to tremble as you sense them moving in closer.

_ ‘I’m not stupid _ .’ You let the branch drop and move the knife to your dominant hand. They only laugh at this. They think you’re faking.

When you feel Whimsalot fluttering in the air just in front of you, you throw out the blade with a strangled yell. The monster shrieks and backs away. It’s not dead, of course. You can’t see it’s HP, but you know that you don’t have enough LOVE to do too much damage.

You don’t care. You’ll find a way.

_ ‘I’m not  _ weak!’ 

Astigmatism hurls out more attacks. One hits you in the nose, and you can feel the blood start to immediately pour out onto your chin. Growling in an almost animalistic way, you jump in the direction of the projectiles. You push out with your hand and locate the creature’s eye before you raise your knife and abruptly bring it down.

And suddenly, you aren’t the only one fighting blind.

Monster blood sprays onto your face as you jerk out the knife, kicking the screaming creature away and turning to face the next threat. You recognize the sound of a Chaser Orb humming next to your ear. It hits you in the temple, but your hand snatches up and grabs it. You smash it into the ground, ignoring the cuts that the shards of glass slash into the bottom of your feet.

Madjick never shuts up, and you easily follow the sound of the malicious trickster’s voice. You slash out with the knife again, not knowing what you’re hitting but not caring either. You don’t let him take his turn -  _ you  _ don’t have to follow the rules.

You hear the monster hit the floor - not dead, but incapacitated and mumbling nonsense incantations. The blade of your weapon hits more metal as you raise it, and Whimsalot deflects your knife. Gritting your teeth into what almost looks like a manic grin, you strike out again. Their weapon cuts deeply into your cheek.

Another strike. You miss. Another gash in your forehead.

You strike again. You hit them. You can hear their wings stutter in mid flight.

With a yell, you throw out your arm with as much force as you can, driving the blade into the monster’s shoulder. With a shriek, it collapses to the ground. You drop to your knees, fumbling around blindly before managing to grab their neck. You lift the knife, blade dripping with blood, and-

 

* * *

 

_ ‘do you think even the worst person can change...?’ _

_ You tilt your head and stare at the dark figure in front of you. You can feel a blade in your hand. You can feel dust on your palms. _

_ ‘that everyone can be a good person, if they just try?’ _

_ Your eyes narrow in confusion. You feel like you used to think this. A sense of shame drapes over you like a heavy coat, and you lower your gaze. _

_ The scene glitches for a moment, but you’re staring at the same figure. There’s multiple wounds covering your body. They seem fresh. _

_ ‘i know you didn't answer me before, but... somewhere in there. i can feel it. there's a glimmer of a good person inside of you. the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing.’ _

_ You shut your eyes, fighting back tears. Your grip on the knife tightens. _

_ ‘someone who, in another time, might have even been... a friend?’ _

_ Your breathing grows tense, and you begin trembling. No. No you don’t deserve to be called that.. _

_ ‘c'mon, buddy…’ _

_ No no you  _ **_can’t_ ** _ you’ve gone too far- _

_‘do yo_ _u rem_ _e m_ _b_ _e_ _r_ _m_ _e_ _?’_

 

* * *

 

A choked breath escapes you, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You drop the knife, scrambling away from Whimsalot and feeling your back press into the wall. Whatever just crossed your memory right now...that faded, foggy dream with silhouetted figures and blood and  _ dust so much dust _ …

That Hall...you recognize the golden gleam of the sunlight on the tiles. You remember dying there, over and over, but...not in the same way as you have been. Not helpless and crying, but DETERMINED. DETERMINED to move forward, to keep to the course you’ve chosen and not look back because you  _ couldn’t _ …

..you can’t remember. But the act of violence you just nearly committed, and the angry feelings and evil thoughts and the absolute, sick delight you felt at the sensation of your victim’s blood on your hands…

You’ve felt that before. But  _ when _ ? You can’t...you can’t  _ remember _ but…

...maybe you don’t  _ want _ to.

A sharp dagger of guilt and shame twists so abruptly into your gut that you want to throw up. This isn’t you. This was never supposed to be you.

“I-I’m-m-m s-s-so-or-ry…” You whimper, chest shuddering as you hear the wounded monsters getting back to their feet. They’re going to kill you. You’ll wake back up in that Hall, and Sans will make good on his promise, you’re sure of it. But you’d rather be blind for forever than to ever raise a weapon to anyone again.

You can feel their angry glares on you. You can sense the rage, and the overwhelming urge to kill radiating off of them. It makes you shiver, and you swallow to keep back sobs.

You’re scared. You are absolutely, overwhelmingly terrified.

And you deserve to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of fishing around for inspiration at this point. No idea when the next update will be.


	13. Crying Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Sans's perspective over the events of the previous, and then some

Sans was expecting them to be back sooner than this.

Not because he thought they could survive his game. He snorted at the idea of that even being a possibility. No; he was expecting them to have died. They were so weak. Even with their sight, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

So where  _ were _ they? It had been several hours. Sans had managed to grab himself some food from Grillby’s, and also gotten himself another good rest in. When he woke up, he expected to be standing before the child, grinning at their terrified face in horror at the unavoidable consequences of losing. It would be a challenge, to force them to SAVE after blinding them again, but Sans was nothing if not persuasive. And the human was such a coward…

But he didn’t see them when he opened his eyes. Maybe they were still trying to get past the puzzle he’d trapped them in front of. Sans gave a chuckle at that thought as he stood up from where he had been resting against the wall. His grin was a little forced, though, because he knew that, as stupid as the child could be, they were also clever enough to have made it through by now.

There was the possibility that they were just cowering somewhere, or trying to find help in spite of his strict instructions not to. Desperation pushed people to make stupid decisions, though. It was better to hunt them down now and kill them before they could make things complicated, rather than just blindly assuming they were too scared of his threats to try anything.

Giving a frustrated sigh, the skeleton teleported himself past the puzzle and began following the path that the kid would have to take to get back to the Hall. It was a simple route to the CORE, at least. He may just find them stumbling around that maze of metal halls blindly (Sans snickered to himself at his cruel pun).

A quick question directed at the front desk of the Resort gave him all the information he needed - yes, the human had come through, and they had been alone. Sans ignored the questions he received in return and started walking towards the entrance of the CORE. He didn’t have time for small talk. He had a troublesome little  _ brat _ to track down…

 

Sans gave an annoyed growl as he reached another dead-end room with a single trashcan, turning around on his heel and glaring ahead of him as he retraced his steps. If  _ he _ was having this much trouble, he could only imagine what the kid suffered through. That thought cheered him up a bit.

Still, they’d managed to get further than he had. They’d had a lot more time, of course. Sans had just figured that he would have caught up easily.

_ ‘Whatever. The brat can’t be too far from here.’ _ Sans stepped through another door, relieved to see a new corridor for once.

**_“Alakazam!”_ **

He knew that voice. Sans paused, turning to look in the direction of the obnoxious noise. It was only a couple of rooms away, and the all-too-familiar cry of pain and panic that followed caused him to immediately set course, the grin on his face widening. Well, wasn’t he  _ just _ in time…

Once he was outside the door, he teleported inside, to the far corner of the dark room. The only way to see was through the bright glow of magic attacks as they were thrown mercilessly at Frisk, who was doing the best they could to dodge and failing miserably. Sans had to use all of his willpower to stifle his laughter. This kid was so pathetic - even when the monsters were hurling vicious insults and the most brutal attacks, they still didn’t fight-

Sans’s eyes widened as he heard the Whimsalot give a pained shriek, and he stood up straighter. Frisk had dropped the stick and was holding their knife -  _ his _ knife - up against their attackers. Their teeth were grit tightly, and their shoulders were shaking.

The monsters were quick to react, but the human was just as quick to respond. Sans watched in shock as Frisk jumped towards the Astigmatism and stabbed them in the eye, not even flinching as they drew the blade back out. The skeleton’s eye flared up out of instinct as he continued to watch the human fight back against their attackers. Madjick was left bleeding on the ground, heavily dazed, in just a few strokes. Whimsalot’s wing was deeply slashed, and after a few parrys, Frisk had it pinned to the floor.

Sans’s eye glowed brighter as the human drew back the knife, seemingly prepared to deliver the final blow-

-but then they froze. Almost like time had stopped around them. Sans stared at them as they began shaking, chin starting to tremble and quiet, strangled gasps escaping through their teeth.

The knife dropped a second later.

The skeleton watched in disbelief as they scrambled back, crying and whimpering out apologies to their nearly-murder victims. Were they just  _ giving up _ ? Just like that? When victory and safety was so close within their grasp?

And they weren’t even  _ running _ ! What was  _ wrong _ with this kid?

Sans gave a quiet growl of irritation and leaned back against the wall, watching with hands shoved in his pockets as Whimsalot and Madjick got up and advanced towards the helpless child. If they were going to give up just like that, then he’d be all too happy to permanently marr them in a few moments. They had shown that they had strength, that their DETERMINATION gave them incredible power to overwhelm and subdue. What had made them back down? Their stupid ‘morals’?

_ ‘Stupid kid.’ _

Whimsalot and Madjick began quietly squabbling, and then a second later they were at each other’s throats. Sans was confused for a moment, until he realized what they were fighting over - the human’s SOUL. It wasn’t like they could share it, after all, and they sure as hell weren’t going to be selfless about it.

In a ridiculously lucky stroke, Frisk avoided death. The two monsters fought each other to the death, and crumbled to dust from their efforts. Astigmatism had run away soon after they had been blinded, and so the human was alone again. It took them a few minutes to realize this, but when they did, their luck abruptly ran out.

Sans shrugged his shoulders back and frowned as he felt the temperature of the room beginning to rise. Frisk seemed to sense it too, as they immediately began trying to shuffle away from the source of it. They hurried to get back to their feet, falling back to the ground twice before they were successful in staying up.

“Is it cold in here?”

Welp, that voice was familiar, too. Frisk seemed to recognize it as well, judging by their immediate panic and attempt to flee out the opposite door. Before they could get too far, a burning rope lashed out and grabbed them around the ankle, yanking them to the floor. They screamed at the searing heat, kicking the bind off and trying to scramble away.

Malevolent laughter preceded the entrance of Pyrope, and Sans shut one eye against the brightness they brought into the room. “Feel the heat, human!” He jeered, lashing out at Frisk again. They tried to roll out of the way, but they were easily caught around the ankles.

The scream of pain that they gave as the flaming binds spiraled up their legs made Sans grin, but it wasn’t as wide as his usual smile, which confused him. He should be happy. Hell, he should be  _ elated _ that he got to watch Frisk suffer without having to do any work himself. He’d practically fantasized about this.

It just wasn’t as fun to not do it himself, he supposed. The skeleton shrugged, leaning back again to watch.

“Hot enough for ya, kid?!”

The ropes had wound around their arms now, pinning them against their waist as they thrashed their body as best they could, trying desperately to get away from the unbearable burning. But there was no escape, and the cords were only drawing tighter. The fabric of their sweater was beginning to burn away like paper, and soon their skin was being singed.

God, Sans wished he had been able to get a cry like that out of them. Maybe he should use fire more in the future. There’d probably be the bonus of traumatic flashbacks to this moment, now - the brutal death that ultimately would cause their blindness. Sans grinned at the thought, watching as Frisk’s HP depleted one by one. Soon enough, they’d be back in the hall-

**_“S-S-Sa-a-an-ns! H-h-he-el-p-p m-m-m-me!”_ **


	14. But Somebody Came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last, helpless scream into the darkness is all you can do.

 You’re unfortunately very well versed in pain at this point, and so you know for a fact that you’ve never suffered through _this_ kind of agony before. It definitely isn’t the worst, but it’s certainly up there on the list. You try your best to free yourself from the cords, but Pyrope is too quick for your weak body to dodge. The thick, burning strands crawl up from your ankles to your knees, to your waist, and eventually stopping at your neck.

    You find yourself hoping that the monster will strangle you, so you can black out from the pain. Of course, you wouldn’t be so lucky. Your attacker wants you to die slowly. Everyone down here seems bent on making you suffer as much as possible. While you had a moment of understanding earlier, as to why monsters kill each other, you still don’t know why they’re all so cruel...maybe it’s best if you don’t.

    Your HP is already draining rapidly, and your **DETERMINATION** can only keep your SOUL held together for so long. As much as you know you deserve the consequences of dying here, you’re still too much of a coward to just accept your fate. To the last of your depleted energy, you fight back, thrashing as much as you can in an effort to loosen yourself. But every centimeter you win only causes Pyrope to draw the cords in tighter.

    4HP.

  _‘There has to be something..!’_ Already you find yourself wishing for the knife again, and you hate yourself for your hypocrisy, but surely just cutting away rope couldn’t kill them?

    3HP.

    Maybe there’s something you can say. But even if you could think up the right words to negotiate MERCY for yourself, you know you can’t say them in time. Not before you -

    2HP.

    Panic begins to set in. Your screams of agony mix in with cries of fear and desperation. You don’t want to be blind. You don’t want to have to suffer through this already unbearable hell without your sight. There has to be _something_ , there has to be _someone that can help you **anybody**_ -

    1HP.

    It’s hopeless. But it’s all you have left. Your last, potential chance of rescue. You know that he won’t answer, and if he does, it will just be to laugh at you, or to help Pyrope draw out your death for as long as possible.

    But you _miss_ him. Even if he only shows up to watch you suffer, at least he’ll be there. At least someone that understands, even if he hates you, how the rules of this world work. Every time he’s killed you, at least it was in the knowledge that you’d be back. This monster only wants you dead.

    You take it a raspy breath, and you scream.

_**“S-S-Sa-a-an-ns! H-h-he-el-p-p m-m-m-me!”** _

    Your grip on your SOUL is slipping. 0.5 HP.

    At the exact moment you give up, you feel the ropes abruptly uncurling from you. You at first wonder if you’re dead, but the very real pain wracking your body is a very cheerful reminder that you’re not.

  “hey.”

    You tilt your head up in the direction of the voice, gasping for air and crying out weakly in relief. Somehow you get yourself back to your feet, and you stumble over to the skeleton, quickly hiding yourself under his coat and clinging to him tightly. His arm goes over your shoulders immediately. Although the grip is painfully tight, with his fingers digging into your burned skin and causing the agony to flare, it’s still somehow reassuring.

    Pyrope is yelling out unintelligible curses towards Sans, but it may just be that your hearing is fading out into nothing but loud ringing. How you’re still conscious is a mystery to you. You figure that it most likely won’t last much longer. You’re more than happy to accept that.

    “hate to interrupt your party over here, but uh..” Sans shifts his arm up, and Pyrope’s yelling dissolves into pained shrieking. You don’t know _exactly_ what the skeleton is doing, but you know what it’s like to be caught in that ice cold SOUL grip. “i gotta tell ya something. you probably didn’t know, but..”

    Your heartbeat is getting louder in your ears, and the ringing noise is becoming deafening. Sans’s arm around your shoulders and your muscle-locked fingers that are clinging tightly to his shirt are the only reasons you’re still standing at all.

    “here’s the thing…”Sans is speaking in that calm, collected voice that he always does when he’s furious. The screams of the monster reach a new octave, and you flinch at the horrible noise.  


**** **_“n o b o d y  d u n k s  o n  t h i s  k i d  b u t  m e,  p a l.”_ **  


    Abruptly Pyrope falls silent, and you can faintly hear dust falling to the ground. You may just be imagining it, though. Everything just sounds like there’s a bell going off inside your head. If you weren’t blinded, you’re sure your vision would have faded out by now anyway.

    Either Sans is quiet for a while, or it takes you a bit to process his voice when he speaks to you. “wassup, buddy?”

    That’s...it’s such a calm, casual greeting, and...and you’re nearly dead, and there’s dust everywhere and Sans has just killed someone protecting you, and...it’s just…

    “..heh..” You sniff, smiling through the blood on your face as you began to break down into hysterics, “..hehheh... _heheheh!_ ”

    Sans withdraws his arm and you fall to your seat, holding your hands over your face as your insane laughter begins dissolving into crying. “Hahaha! Hah... _ahaha_...hhha…” It’s so funny. No, it’s not. Just sort of...maybe. You don’t know. You don’t know what’s going on inside your head. Everything is just laughter and dry tears and hiccups and _bells_ in your skull.

    He doesn’t talk again. Probably. You know for certain that if he does say anything, you won’t even be able to hear it. So what’s the point?

    A particularly intense giggle causes you to collapse to your side. You wish you could see his face-

    No. No you don’t. You don’t want to see how he’s looking at you. You wish no one was watching you. You wish you were alone. You wish you were dead for real. The brief second of time that exists between your deaths and the reloads seems so peaceful. It must be nice to just _stay_ there.

    Eventually you run out of air to laugh with, and you draw your knees in towards your chin, hugging your legs and pressing your forehead against them to hide your contorted face. All traces of frantic humor that you’d latched onto are gone. You’re too weak to really cry anymore, though. You just lay there shaking, an occasional cough or lurch in your chest causing your shoulders to shudder. Your nails scrape at the fresh burns on your skin, but you can’t even feel the pain as the fragile flesh is ripped away. The only thing you can sense is the blood running down your legs.

    Good. Maybe you'll die. Maybe if you try really, _really_ hard, you won’t come back.

    You barely notice as Sans eventually picks you up, sighing as he lets you collapse like a rag doll against his chest, “you’re a real mess, kid, yah know that?”

    One last, raspy laugh escapes you. If only he could see just how shattered you are on the inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was delightful to write.  
> Didn't someone ask for a breakdown scene?  
> I've always been planning on ~~several~~ one, but here you are  <3
> 
>  
> 
> make a goddamn sex joke with the chapter title and I will e n d y o u 8)


	15. Go Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk gives up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies ~ thank you for being so patient  
> I've been slow to update this because I have been working enthusiastically on another also very angsty Frisk suffering fanfic (no violence. well. not really). ~~Since only one person follows me~~ I thought I'd just advertise that real quick here.  
>  It's called Gradual Decay. And it basically consists of what happens to Frisk after they give away their SOUL to Asgore. In other words, the consequences of trying to live without a SOUL.

At some point during your walk back you must have passed out, because Sans is currently shaking you awake. You give a nearly silent grunt as you’re set down on the floor, flinching and tensing when the skeleton takes your hands.

    “ _relax_ , pal. sheesh.” His hands begin to burn yours, and you stiffen up instantly. Even when you realize he’s healing you, you stay tense, breathing hard through your nose. Fire is officially not your friend, whether it heals you or hurts you.

    After a few minutes, your hands are back in proper working order, and your HP has risen back to 1. Hurray…

    “alright. talk to me.” Sans says, “what happened back there?”

    You tilt your head and furrow your brow, ‘I was attacked.’

    “yeah, i was there for that part. but uh...i think you’re leavin’ out some important details. i’m pretty sure that’s not all your blood...and where’s my knife, kiddo?”

    You hold still for a moment, giving a stiff swallow but keeping your blind gaze steady, ‘I tried to kill them.’

    “bingo. thanks for not tryin’ to lie to me, pal. that’d have made me pretty ticked off.” Sans shuffles in his seat, and you imagine he’s probably leaning himself back against a pillar.

    You’re back in the Judgement Hall, of course. You don’t need to see to recognize the place of your own, repeated deaths.

    When you don’t respond, Sans continues, “you stopped at the last second, though. why?”

    How do you explain that dream to him? How do you explain seeing a more merciful, gracious version of him? How can you tell him about the blood and dust on your hands and the incredible burden of shame and guilt that brought you to your knees?

    Supposing he even believed you, it all sounded like a fever dream, or a delusional child’s hallucination. He’d probably be upset at the idea that he once offered you MERCY, and tried to stop your murderous rampage.

    ‘I stopped because I don’t want to be a killer.’ You reply, expression blank as you let your hands drop back to your lap.

    Sans sighs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, “ugh. kid, you’re never going to make it down here. you’re lucky i came for you when i did.”There’s a pause, then, “guess you still technically made it back here. even if i had to carry you more than half the way. so you win. congrats, buddy.”

    ‘No.’

    “...huh?”

    ‘I broke the rules. I cheated. Or I tried to. So I don’t win.’ Why are you telling him this? You suppose you have to tell someone about what happened. ‘Flowey found me.’

    Sans stiffens, and you can hear the anger in his tone, “oh yeah?”

    ‘I thought we were going to get past you together. I thought…’ You tighten your jaw in a fruitless attempt to keep your chin from trembling, ‘..he tried to kill me.’ It's easy to picture him slowly grinning, ‘So I...I had to kill him first.’ You heave in a breath, ducking your head, ‘I had to kill him. I didn't want to die. I was so scared. I didn't want you to blind me. I didn't want…’

    You feel sobs swelling up in your throat and chest. The urge to break down again, to just give up, is overwhelming. What are you even trying to accomplish anymore? It's hopeless.

    Instead of just sobbing, though, you look up, giving a broken smile. You have one more thing to say. ‘You were right, Sans. You were always right. I don't have any friends. Even you hate me. I don't know why but there's got to be some reason, because everyone I've ever met…’ You stop, biting on your lip and letting out a shaky breath, ‘So you win. I give up. Go ahead. Blind me. Kill me again. I don’t care.’ You shut your eyes, leaning back against a pillar and letting your brow smooth over. ‘I don’t care.’

    You hadn’t fallen into Mount Ebott by accident. It hadn’t been a family picnic, a school field trip, or an outing with friends. No one called out your name in panic when you plunged down into the darkness. No one afterwards noticed an empty bed or school desk and felt concerned. No frightened parents went to the police, no concerned teacher called in to ask if you were sick no friends that missed you stopped by your home to check on you.

    You’ve been alone your whole life. You heard about the rumors of no one ever coming back, and it hadn’t been curiosity that drove you to trek your way up the mountain. No one came back from Ebott. Not that you would have anything to return to.

    But surviving...you hadn’t planned on that. You hadn’t planned on monsters being there at every turn to try and kill you. You would have welcomed it, if you weren’t aware that your SOUL would be the last one needed to break the barrier. And for the fact that it’s so filled with DETERMINATION, every death only means you reload, to die again and again.

….now that you’ve given up, though...maybe Sans will finally get what he wants. Maybe this time when he kills you, you won’t come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because I'm trying to decide whereee exactly to go with this. Decisions, decisions...
> 
> Also I'm going to use this space to advertise fanart I've received for this fanfiction:  
> http://lucyred12.deviantart.com/art/Underfell-Merciless-599671823  
> by the lovely DemyxXIII (dA) ~ the first fanart that was gifted to me. It's absolutely lovely. There's a speed paint of it, also, on YouTube. It truly delights my dark heart with how evil Sans looks.
> 
> http://lucyred12.deviantart.com/art/Sans-Edgelord-599933469  
> by the ever loyal ProfessorButterfly (dA). The fluffy black slippers and casual stance of Sans are my absolute favorite aspects.
> 
> http://lucyred12.deviantart.com/art/Merciless-602499358  
> by AngelNight123 (dA). She's lovely but shy, and also fairly young? I'm not sure how to feel about having a 16 > year old reader to this...less than family friendly piece. But oh well. She's sweet and adorable. (Frisk is adorably sad in this drawing <3)
> 
> And so, all of that being said, it's obvious that fanart is absolutely OK with me. More than okay. I adore anything that someone has made for me. You could literally vomit on a piece of paper and tell me it's for me and I'll still take it. 
> 
> ..alright maybe not THAT extreme but anyways..you get the point.  
> In summary; scrambling for plot ideas, fanartomgit'sgreat, and thank you for your patience.
> 
> Toodles~


	16. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans finally gets what he wants.......or does he?

    Sans is quiet for a while, standing there and watching the broken child with mixed feelings. They were giving up. They finally accepted the fact that they aren’t going to ‘befriend’ him, or ever get past him. Even though they’d had the perfect opportunity…

    Sighing, Sans gets to his feet, stepping forward towards Frisk. “finally ready to die, huh?” He holds up his hand, conjuring up a sharpened bone, “well...i’m all too happy to help ya out with that.”

    Frisk jolts as their heart is pierced through. They give a strangled gasp, curling up their fists and panting to hold back cries of pain. Their breathing eventually grows slower and shallower, until they stop completely and hold still. The bone disappears and Sans crouches down next to them, putting his fingers under their chin and smirking when he feels nothing.

    It usually takes a few seconds for them to revive, and for him to find himself standing back in the hall. He holds out his palm, turning Frisk’s SOUL blue and pulling it towards himself. It leaves their body without complaint or resistance and sits quietly in his hand. Standing back up straight, Sans examines the red heart, which has all but lost its original glow. So this was what their SOUL looked like when drained of all DETERMINATION. Interesting.

    “heh.” Sans grins at the body, “glad you’ve finally given up, kid. took ya long enough...gotta say, i didn’t think it’d be this hard to make you quit. guess you aren’t as big a wimp as I thought. well... _weren’t_ , anyways.”

    Unsurprisingly, the lifeless child has no response. They remain limp against the pillar, hands still resting on their lap where they’d put them after giving their final words. Blood is still pooling out from their death wound, soaking their sweater in a damp red. Their light brown bangs are clinging to their forehead, wet with droplets of sweat born out of fear, exertion, and stress. Honestly...looking at them now, Sans is begrudgingly even more impressed that they had held out as long as they did.

    “....whatever.” He mutters under his breath, turning his back to their corpse and forcing himself to walk towards the exit, back to the CORE. He’s a little too worn to teleport. Of course he _could_ just absorb Frisk’s SOUL and become more powerful, increase his magic reserve, his HP, his endurance...everything.

    Sans stops, turning his eye back to the tiny heart. So why is he still holding it like it’s made of glass, with his fingers stretched out as far as possible to avoid touching it? As if scared to hurt it, when he’s crushed it so many times before?

    He grits his teeth, jamming his free hand in his pocket and glaring at the SOUL. _Really_? Even after _finally_ killing them they were _still_ going to do this to him? Hammer away at his barely existant conscience until he’s forced to feel…..regret?

    “stop it.” He hisses, eye flaring up in anger, “you’re _dead_. get it? i won! you gave up! you quit! you _gave it to me_! it’s…” His pocketed hand tightens into a fist, _“_ _it’s over so just stop it!”_

    The heart continued to pulse weakly, but steadily, in his hand. It doesn't cower or dim in the slightest. Sans grips it in his fingers, hand shaking in anger. Why won't it _stop_?! He pulls his arm back, prepared to smash it on the ground if that's what it takes to make that feeling stop.

    But he doesn't.

    “......heh.” Sans relaxes his shoulders, giving a sigh through his teeth and rubbing at his forehead. “ah, kid…..” His eye lights up again as he holds the SOUL in both hands, “what the hell am i doin’.” He mumbles.

The dim heart begins to brighten, the red color being just slightly restored to it through Sans’s magic. He stops before the glow can get too strong, sighing and letting his eye dim again. “that should be enough.” He holds it up in one hand again, watching the SOUL glow idly for a minute before curling in his fingers and crushing it. “see ya soon, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weLP hi there. My name is Lucy Red and I've gotten caught up with writing an extensive amount of Sans torture stories on the sidelines and forgot that I have published fanfiction to keep updated.  
> Whoops~


	17. Preview for Broken Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does the future hold...?

**A/N: _And so Merciless has reached its end. But the story is not over. Please enjoy these snippets of the sequel in the meantime~_**  
  
  
  _‘Why?!’_ Is he still not done hurting you? Haven’t you gone through enough? You aren’t playing anymore. You stay lying on the floor, shaking with fear and anger, and the threat of frustrated tears building pressure behind your eyes.

    He doesn’t seem to care, and picks you up anyways, carrying you out of the hall, **“you look _bone tired_ , kid...how about a sleepover?”  
  
  
**

  
**\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
**

    How long is he going to leave you in here?

    It’s cramped. It’s cold. It’s agonizingly quiet, and you can’t take much more of this! You turn onto your stomach and hold the small pillow against your face, screaming into it and then breaking down sobbing. You’re going to die in here. You’re sure of it.  
  
  


  
**\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
**

    You can’t tell what he’s thinking. The way he’s staring at you makes you want to rush up and hug him as much as it makes you want to flee for the nearest corner. He’s so silent, but his eye is burning brightly. You almost wish he would just hurt you, instead of keeping you in this state of anxiety.

    Suddenly he throws something at you and you fall back, rubbing your forehead and picking up the projectile.

    …..it’s a small box of crayons…

    A few sheafs of crumpled up paper are scattered onto the ground, and he turns away, **“now shut up with the crying for two goddamn hours.”** The door slams and you’re left in a state of confusion.  
  
  


  
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**“well, what’s this?”**

    You gasp, staring up in horror. You’re frozen in place. You can’t move.

    His grip on your wrist tightens, and then he twists it painfully, forcing you to drop the knife, **“probably just on your way to cut onions, right?”**

    “S-Sans I w-wa-was-s-sn-n’t…” You try to stammer out your lie, pupils shrinking as Sans pulls you forward, forcing you to look him right in the eye.

    **“you should be more careful, kiddo. i’d think that you were tryin’ to kill me** **…”** He gives a wide, furious grin and you give a cry of fright, and then pain as your wrist bone snaps, __**“Too bad I don’t know any better.”  
  
  
**

  
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    ‘I forgive you.’

    Sans’s sockets turn black, and he steps away like you’re suddenly a serious threat, _ **“what?”**_

    ‘I forgive you.’ It hurts your shattered hand to sign, but you do anyway. He has to know. ‘I forgive you. For everything you did. And everything you’re going to do. I forgive you.’

 **“stop it.”** Sans growls, his fists curling up and lighting on fire.

    You’re scared. You are so...so scared. ‘I forgive-’

**_“i said stop it!”_ **

    You feel a familiar, deathly cold grip your SOUL, and you hit the wall forcefully. Blood trickles from your nose.   
     
  **“you should really learn to obey orders,** **pal.”** Sans grabs you by the neck, and you start to choke, __ **“But I guess stupid brats like you have to learn the hard way…”  
  
**

_**\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt the need to post a preview here, because I have ONE user subscribed to me. (very un-passive passive aggressive cough >_>) And after the fuss about the story being over, I wouldn't want anyone to miss out.  
> That would just be cruel...
> 
>  
> 
> 8)


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